


That's the Q: Survive

by Anatropes, LiteraryHedonism



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Teen Wolf (TV), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover Pairings, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Alpha Peter Hale, M/M, Post Happenstance, Post Into the Light, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatropes/pseuds/Anatropes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryHedonism/pseuds/LiteraryHedonism
Summary: Q slams the book shut in a huff. “These characters are ridiculous.” He tosses the book over his shoulder and begins to pace around Jean-Luc’s study. This little venture into Earth’s more obscure literature was turning out tedious and boring. “Maybe these Starks need a lesson in what it means to be a wolf…” He laughs to himself. “This dragon queen isn't much good at ruling either…” Q smiles, full of mischief. “And I think I know just who can teach them that lesson.”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Richard B. Riddick/Khan Noonien Singh | John Harrison, established Peter/Stiles, established Riddick/Khan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all,
> 
> So, we decided to have a little experiment. Just for fun, we plucked our characters, or rather Q did, from their own stories to toss them into the world of Game of Thrones. We had fun writing this first chapter and we hope that you will enjoy it too. Looking forward to your comments!

**Chapter One**

Khan closes his book and looks up at the familiar growl. “What is it?”

Riddick stands to stalk around the room, the deep rumbling sound still emanating from his chest. “I’m not sure,” he says after a moment of careful inspection, “feels like someone’s here with us.”

Khan pushes back from his desk and stands, Riddick’s instincts are not something he would offhandedly ignore. “I can’t hear anything,” he says after taking a moment to drown out the usual noises and listen for anything unusual.

“How quaint!” A disembodied voice says. “Honestly, Khan, I was beginning to wonder what you see in this...animal, but I suppose dogs have their uses.”

Khan walks to stand next to Riddick, his eyes search the room. “Show yourself,” he says in a calm yet icy tone.

“So bossy,” the voice answers and a glow appears next to his desk, a blink later an unknown man is sitting on the edge of his desk, Khan’s book in his hands, as if he had been there all along, reading.

“Who the hell are you?” Riddick growls and takes a few menacing steps forward.

“Riddick, don’t,” Khan says, sensing that whatever the creature before them was, it was not to be taken lightly.

The man snaps the book shut and smirks at Riddick. “Listen to your master, doggo.”

Khan reaches out to grab Riddick’s arm but the big guy proves too fast for him. In a second Riddick has his daggers out and is leaping across the room at the intruder. 

“None of that!” The man snaps his fingers and Riddick is gone. “Now,” he says with an almost friendly smile, “we can finally converse like the civilized beings we both pretend to be.”

Khan stares at the empty space where his mate was just a moment ago. His breath is frozen in his lungs and his heart is at full speed. Slowly he looks at the creature still sitting nonchalantly on his desk and his rage rises to the surface. “Bring him back now, or I will tear you limb from limb.”

The man gives him an unimpressed look. “I’m disappointed, I thought you would appreciate some time away from that smelly animal.” He waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry, your dog is safe, for now.”

“For now?” Khan says, barely restraining himself. “Where is he? And who the hell are you?”

“We call ourselves Q,” the man says. There’s a bright light again and the man’s outfit changes, he is now dressed as a soldier from the Eugenics Wars. “I sent Lassie on a little adventure, but don’t worry, you’ll still have a canine companion for your own adventure. I might even bring you both back...if you survive.”

Khan’s mind works fast but he still can’t make sense of the creature before him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Simple,” the man says and flashes out to appear right in front of Khan. “Because I’m bored,” he says with a grin and snaps his fingers in Khan’s face.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Peter stumbles forward a few steps, his speech dying in his throat as he steadies himself. “Q!” He shouts in an empty clearing, it looks, smells, and sounds like a quiet forest grove but with Q involved, this whole thing could be an illusion. He growls in frustration, “Q! Stiles!” 

A few moments go by with no answer but the sounds of birds. Panic starts to build, he’s cut off from the station, in his civilian gear, and he can’t feel Stiles anywhere despite having been right next to his beta just a few moments ago. 

With no warning and abruptly close, Peter hears the gallop of hooves from a thicket to his far right. A large white stallion leaps over the underbrush, it’s rider’s armor shone with brilliance despite the lack of proper light. 

Peter crouches back defensively, deciding whether he can risk engaging an unknown. He doubts that’s an actual medieval knight, especially with Q involved.

The rider rears the horse to a stop a few feet away and throws the cover of his helm back with flourish. “What have we here? A peasant? Nay, a brigand? Declare yourself!”

“Q!” Peter hisses out darkly, he’s more than a little insulted at being called a peasant. “You know exactly who I am, you sorry excuse for an omnipotent child!” His eyes turn red as the beta shift takes over and he moves to unhorse the being who’s seen fit to remove him from his pack.

“Why so angry my fanged friend? You should be thanking me, who better than I to give your dreary, boring little life some color and excitement!” Q exclaims and snaps his fingers, freezing the angry werewolf to his spot. “Ah, ah, time to listen to the rules but first… where did I drop that micro-brain?” He snaps his fingers again and another man pops up next to Peter.

While Peter’s gaze is fixed forward, he can still catch a peripheral view of the other poor sap Q has decided to kidnap. The stranger, because it’s no one from the Enterprise, is held just as motionless. His frame is close to Peter’s, maybe taller, and clean shaven all the way to his head too. The alpha takes in a long breath, tasting the air at the same time. The other man isn’t human, in fact he barely has a scent at all and his heartbeat is slow and steady.

Q looks immensely pleased with himself. “Now that I have your attention, we’re going to play a game called Game of Thrones. I’m sure you’re both wondering what I’ve done with your lovers, don’t worry they are here...sort of. You see, you have to find them, but to do so, you have to play the game.” He looks at them with a stern expression. “If you don’t play you won’t see them again.” At the drop of a hat, his expression turns mockingly sorrowful. “You see, I didn’t like the original ending, so I want you to change it. Here’s a hint. Two Alphas to save some lost wolf pups. As for your lovers, they’ll have their own game to play with the mother of dragons.” He grins. “See? Simple. Well, I’ll be checking in on you, for now, I’ll let you two sniff each others...you know.” A snap of fingers, a flash, and Q was gone.

The hold on Peter vanishes shortly after Q disappears. He growls, frustrated and angry that he’s being made into this being’s plaything. Another, almost identical sound comes from the man standing a short distance away. Peter wonders what it is about this man, being really since he’s not human, that has warranted Q’s attention. He sniffs the air again, not a wolf or any sort of alien he’s encountered in his years serving StarFleet but the cautioning instinct that he’s in the company of another apex predator shouldn’t be ignored.

“Two Alphas to save some lost pups…” He quietly repeats the clue with a frown then thinks of Stiles and this mother of dragons. “I suppose since we’ll have to work together, introductions are in order.” He doesn’t make a move to get closer, instead lets his eyes shine red. “Commander Peter Hale, Starfleet. I was on a space station in deep space until this... Where did Q pluck you from?”

The man removes his goggles and tilts his head. “Richard B. Riddick. Did you say Starfleet? So you know James T. Kirk?”

Peter takes in the man’s eyes, maybe he was some kind of shifter. He’s surprised by the question more than anything. “I know of him… He was captain of the Enterprise but that was decades ago… How?” He frowns, had Q taken someone from the past? If Q was playing with time, all his talk of thrones, knights and dragons is making Peter’s head spin with possibilities.

Riddick frowns at his reply. “Decades? What century are you from?”

“The mid 24th.” Peter states plainly.

Riddick grunts. “Not the future then. Who was that dipshit?” 

The alpha snorts at the comment but it’s the  _ future _ part that truly catches his attention. “Oh, that was way more than your run of the mill dipshit. That was the world's biggest douche… An omnipotent being with the temperament of a bored spoiled child!”

“So how do we ghost him?” Riddick asks, checking that he still has all his weapons. Satisfied, he pulls his goggles back over his eyes and turns his attention back to Peter.

“So far, Starfleet scientists have ruled that the Q can’t be contained or killed. The Q don’t exist on this plane of existence… They’re pure energy and will. If a Q can think it, it can do it, even the laws of physics are meaningless to them. Not that they give two shits about the rules of the universe to begin with.” Peter looks around at the grove, it’s peaceful enough but there’s something in the air that sets his teeth on edge. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but even I can’t handle Q, believe me, I have tried.”

Riddick gives him an obvious head to toe appraisal. “Big badass, are you? I killed things with bigger fangs than you. What’s your plan? Play his game?”

Peter scoffs. “You haven’t seen half my fangs yet. And yes, while it goes against everything I am, I will play Q’s game for two reasons.” He raises a finger, “One, Q is a giant pain in the ass, he’s dangerous and unpredictable  _ but _ he does keep his word. Second, I will do whatever it takes to get to Stiles just as I know he’ll do everything to find me.” The ‘don’t get in my way’ is left unsaid.

“Your boy will be fine, I’m guessing he’s with Khan. Alright kitty, let's play.” He grins and starts walking towards the trees.

“Did you just say Khan?” Peter follows Riddick’s movements while still keeping some distance. He ignores the Kitty jibe, for now, he’s gotten used to Stiles colourful pet names.

“Yeah, that’s who I’m looking for.” He stops and turns. “You know him?” 

“There’s a Khan Noonien Singh in our history books but he…” Peter clears his throat tactfully. “He died back in the Kirk era. This makes no sense. Where the hell are you from Riddick?” He wants to ask what he is too, but one dilemma at a time.

Riddick hesitates. “26th century. How exactly did this Khan of yours die?”

Peter senses there's something more behind the question, curiosity makes him answer truthfully. “Khan died after a failed engagement between the Enterprise and the Reliant. Reports state that Khan engaged the self destruct when the ship was disabled but there were some experimental materials aboard. The explosion destroyed a solar system…” 

Riddick grins. “Sounds like Khan, but no, wasn’t him. So, you’re not only from the past, you must be from a different universe as well. My Khan was somehow brought to my time, Kirk followed him there too, they made a deal and parted as awkward friends. He is, however, Khan Noonien Singh.”

Peter groans as the full scope of Q’s fuckery dawns on him, he looks up at the midday sky. “Wonderful!” He runs a hand through his hair. Different universes and time travel, again… Only now he was separated from Stiles and stuck with this Riddick instead. “And really, there’s no guarantee that we’re in your timeline or universe. This whole place could have been created by Q for the sole purpose of screwing us over.” He feels the rage pass swiftly through and takes his anger out on a nearby sapling, his claws slice through it easily in a small explosion of splinters.

Riddick raises an eyebrow. “You and Khan should get along fine, Kitty. Where, when, and how doesn’t change what we need to do. So, if you’re done with your hissyfit, I’d like to get started.”

Peter glares, unfortunately, the man is right and his brush cutting won’t change shit. “I have a feeling telling you to stop calling me Kitty won’t work and I can’t gut you either. Not without risking Stiles, and while I know my beta can handle your Khan; the pack thrives, the lone omega dies.” He starts a slow peripheral walk around the grove, scenting the shifting winds. “I smell horses… maybe a few settlements or heck could be a fucking castle… men, a lot of them and old blood. There’s a river several yards east. What do you make of Q’s clue?”

Riddick crosses his arms. “The two Alphas might be us, no clue who the pups are but I doubt it’s your beta and Khan. So these pups must be somewhere close to us. As for who the dragon mother is, that’s for Khan to figure out.”

“I agree on the Alphas being us, a bit overly accurate on my count.” He eyes Riddick curiously, wondering what sort of  _ Alpha  _ he is. “History says Khan was a maniacal genius, how close to that is your Khan… and how well does he do with other geniuses who have no brain to mouth filter?”

Riddick shrugs. “No clue. I don’t think he’s ever met anyone who can match him. Though Khan can have a temper, even go berserk at times, I think your boy should be safe. It takes a lot these days to get Khan to go...maniacal.”

Peter hums. “I’ve never been able to measure Ushgul strength versus a full augment but there hasn’t been a race to match either mine or Stiles strength. He’s smart, too smart sometimes.” He sighs in worry. “Let’s hope the full moon here is gentle…”

Riddick sighs. “I hope you mean that in some literal manner and you’re not one of those poetry types.”

He snorts, a chuckling laugh escapes him despite the serious situation. “While I do enjoy a good sonnet more than most, no, I’m not the poetry type. That was meant in a more… metaphysical sense.” Peter takes a few steps back to lean on a thick tree trunk. “Stiles and I are Ushguls, werewolves. This isn’t my first time jumping universes. Where we’re originally from, my species is ruled by the lunar cycle. A full moon drives our more… aggressive impulses. When we arrived in Starfleet’s world, the moon no longer held any power.” He’s more worried about Stiles than ever. “Stiles has never experienced the moon’s pull. I have no idea if this world even has a moon but if it does, we’ll have to be cautious.”

Riddick stands to his full height. “Would he attack Khan?”

Peter takes time to consider the question. “I can’t say it’s impossible. Stiles will be aware of the risks though, he’ll warn Khan and take precautions if he can. Stiles isn’t a killer by nature but without an Alpha to ground him… it won't be easy for him.”

* * *

  
  


Riddick moves into the shadows at the edge of their camp and removes his goggles. “So are we in agreement? We found one of our pups?” He looks over at the man sitting by the fire. When they first got thrown into this mess together, Riddick had been impressed that the man was as big as him, a rare occurrence, now he was more impressed by the man’s other skills. His hearing seems as good as Khan’s but his sense of smell is something Riddick envies. He also wants to get a better look at the beast lurking behind those eyes.

“We are.” Peter looks up and away from the fire. “If what we’ve been hearing wasn’t enough, that wolf at the boy’s side would be enough for me. Getting close is gonna be the tricky part. The Starks have been betrayed over and over, I doubt they’ll take us in with open arms.”

Riddick hums. “That is a beautiful beast.” He considers the dilemma for a while. “We could deliver a few Lannister heads to him. Pretty gifts always cheer people up.”

“A lovely gesture, with some merit but could lead to complications.” Peter smiles ruefully. “Remember the Lannisters have two hostages, those girls are on our list too. Too many heads, or the wrong one and we risk the girls.”

Riddick grins, he’s liking this man more and more. “That pretty boy that keeps wandering off from the Lannister camp to play soldier, he’s one of the Lannisters, we could capture him alive, his men are fair game.”

Peter chuffs. “It’d be a good lesson for him at the very least, rather careless wandering these woods at night. Never know what could be lurking in the dark.” He gets up to stretch. “I wouldn’t mind a good hunt either and it’s as good an in with the Starks as any other.”

Riddick gets up as well. Finally, they were doing something. “You have the nose, Kitty. Do you have his scent?”

There’s a heavy sigh as Peter removes his shirt then shucks off his pants. “Yes, of course I have a scent.” His body starts to shift. “We’re dealing with knights on horseback, a full shift will give us the advantage.”

Riddick watches as bones shift and grow under the man’s skin and fur grows at a rapid rate all over his body. Riddick takes half a step back as the man’s shape keeps changing and growing until a giant wolf, about 12 feet tall, standing on its hind legs and covered in black fur stands before him. He stares for a moment taking it all in, he feels a familiar thrill coursing throughout his body and he can’t resist stepping closer. He looks Wolf-Peter in the eyes and smiles maniacally. “Now that’s impressive.”

The wolf leans forward to drop on all fours.  _ I know. _

Riddick laughs. “I’d show you my trick but I don’t know what effect it’ll have on you. So then, shall we play who’s the better killer?”

_ That’s not ominous at all. _ Peter raises his head, nose high up.  _ He’s not close, the wind’s in our favour though. He’s got five men with him. Should be easy… which is a bit disappointing. _

“I’ll give you a belly rub later if it makes you feel better,” Riddick says and smirks. “Lead the way, Kitty.”

_ That’s a designated Stiles only zone. Hope you can keep up, cause I’m not giving you a ride. _ The wolf trots off towards the woods and waits for Riddick at the edge.

Riddick stretches and shakes his head in amusement. He’s always up for a good challenge. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll keep up.” 

* * *

  
  


Riddick puts his goggles back on as light begins to filter in through the trees. He chuckles silently to himself as he recalls last night. He had kept up with the wolf, though he had no illusions that he’d be a match for Peter if they had been in an open area and the wolf went all out. Still, it had been a while since he enjoyed a race, not since he and Khan had raced across the ice to the Starfleet shuttle. “You were right,” he says to Peter. “The fight was disappointing. Can we even call that a fight?”

Peter snorts. “I wouldn’t. See that’s the problem with men like  _ Ser Jamie Lannister _ , no sense of the pack. Left his men to be picked off in the night because he thought he was chasing some big game.” He tosses a snobbish sneer towards the knight. “He’s convinced he’s top of the food chain because he’s good at killing with a sword.” There’s an odd bit of anger there.

“That’s the thing with big game, sometimes it hunts you back. That shrill scream when he saw you shift back though kind of makes up for the disappointment.” 

Peter laughs, a large grin full of teeth plays across his face. “I did miss being the big bad wolf.”

Riddick looks over at the object of their discussion and grins. The man’s eyes were wide and red rimmed, darting between them as if he didn’t know who to fear most. Riddick doubted the man slept at all last night. “Let’s go deliver our gift then,” He says, putting on his knives and making sure they’d be easy to pull out quickly if needed. “I still can’t sense Khan, can you sense your beta?”

“No, nothing. I’ve got no idea how big this continent is, let alone the planet. We’ve never tested just how far our link could go, there’s no telling though given the circumstances of our arrival here.” Peter’s forehead scrunches in thought. “Once we’ve delivered our gift and secured our positions we can start asking questions about this dragon lady.”

Riddick nods. “I’m not good with people. Khan is the charmer, I usually just intimidate them.” He looks at their prisoner. “Bet I could make him sing though.” He strides over to the prisoner and lifts him up and off his feet with one arm, with the other he pulls out his favorite shaving shiv and holds it against the man’s crotch. “How about it pretty boy? Know where the dragon mother is?”

Peter comes to stand next to Riddick, his claws out as he lets them glide near the knight’s neck. “I can find out everything he knows and he wouldn’t have to say a word. It’ll still hurt, of course, depending on how deep I dig and I can’t promise he won’t be a vegetable afterwards.” He shrugs, “makes no difference to me either way. Not a great bargaining chip if we maim him too much though.”

Riddick growls and lets the whimpering Lanister fall back to the ground. “You got more tricks than a whore, Kitty. If it’s faster maybe we should do it. Would they care if he’s a vegetable?”

“Hold on!” The man yells out in near panic. “Whatever the Targaryen is paying you, I can guarantee my father will easily make you a better offer for my safe return.” The blond stammers quickly, his false bravado isn’t enough to hide his fear, though he appears confident that he’s applied the right leverage. Which is a mistake.

Riddick crouches down in front of the man and removes his goggles. “Your daddy can offer me the planet and it won’t be enough. Now talk or I’ll let my friend here have it his way.”

The knight scowls quietly, his eyes darting back and forth while he makes his decision. He swallows thickly but his words are flippant. “I don’t know where the Targaryen girl is specifically, probably somewhere in Essos getting screwed by some bloodriders.” He spits on the ground. “If you’re not Targaryen loyalists and you're not after money then what do you want?”

Riddick turns his head and exchanges a glance with Peter before turning back to the prisoner. “How far is Essos?” he asks, ignoring the man’s questions.

Ser Jaime frowns, confused. “How far is…” He looks up at the wolf like he’s trying to figure them out. “It’s only the largest land mass across the narrow sea. You must be from beyond the Wall?” Fear and doubt flash across the knights face briefly. 

Riddick tilts his head in a way he knows his eyes will catch the light and grins. “You can answer my questions to the point, or you can ask your own, but each question you ask, I break one of your fingers.”

The man is smart enough to keep his mouth shut, after a few tense moments he nods with a mulish scowl.

“Across the sea uh. He’s not lying about not knowing where the girl is.” Peter sighs in disappointment. “Let’s see if the Starks have questions for him too before we make him sing some more. Should make sure he’s run out his use before we risk turning his brain to mush. Let’s get this show going, Lannister scouts have started combing the forest far north looking for our golden boy here.”

Riddick harrumphs thoughtfully and stands up. “Your hearing must be better than Khan’s.”

“My senses were always better than most, I’ve worked hard to hone them for decades. If the winds are good, I’ll know days ahead of time. Horses and men sweating in their armor isn’t that hard to miss on terrain like this.” Peter begins covering all signs that they’d made camp here. “Are we walking the Lannister or should one of us haul his ass around?”

Riddick eyes the prisoner. “I’ll carry him. Be faster and won’t have to put up with his whining.”

Peter hums. “I’ve been thinking… That boy’s direwolf, it’s only a pup they say. It wouldn’t be far fetched to say my alpha form is around the size of a full grown one, probably bigger. We heard all those rumours the Lannister soldiers were throwing around, they think Robb is a shifter like me.” He tilts his head towards the knight. “This one sure thought I was a direwolf until I shifted back. Maybe if the Starks see you with a direwolf at your side, we don't need to sweet talk them.” The man shrugs, like he’s still not sure of his own plan.

“We could,” Riddick says slowly. He wasn’t much of a talker unless it was to explain to someone exactly how he was going to kill them, this playing diplomat should be interesting. See if he learned anything from Khan. “So you’ll be wolf the whole time?”

Peter shook his head. “Just long enough to get us a private audience with the Starks.” He walks closer to Riddick to whisper quietly. “The Starks are spread out thin, we can’t keep them all safe. Which means giving them the means to do it themselves. I’m going to offer them the Bite, seeing that I can shift ahead of time will be all the proof we need to give them.”

Riddick stares at the man. “You want to bite them? How’s that gonna gain their trust?”

A dark grin pulls at Peter's face. “An alpha’s bite is a gift. It can turn a normal man into a beta wolf. These Starks call themselves wolves, perhaps it should be more than words.”

Riddick nods, and here he thought he’d seen it all. Still, to be an actual beast had a tempting quality to it. “Could work,” he says. “Won’t know unless we try.” He walks up to their prisoner and unceremoniously picks him up and throws him over his right shoulder. “Ready?”

Peter nods as he pulls off the rest of his clothing. “Just need to tuck these away for later.” He walks towards Riddick and shoves his clothes in the back of the knight’s armor. “Hold on to those will ya.” Peter chuckles at the prisoner’s disgruntled huff. He shifts at the grove’s edge then sniffs the air.  _ The Stark camp is this way, it should take a couple of hours to reach them. _

Riddick shifts the weight on his shoulder. “Let’s try and half that time,” he says.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Riddick stood at the edge of the forested area and watched as the Stark camp went about their morning routine. They seemed to be preparing to move out. He sensed someone watching them and spotted the Stark wolf across the camp. The beast seemed almost surprised to see them and frozen in place. Riddick removed his goggles and reached out, giving the beast a little mental jolt. It tilted its head and then took off in their direction. Riddick replaced his goggles and stepped out of his cover to meet it.

“Will you bring this pup to heel or shall I?” he asks his companion.

The large black wolf steps out next to Riddick.  _ I’ll deal with the pup, you make sure I don’t end up looking like a pincushion.  _ Peter slowly goes ahead to meet the wolf on the field.

“I’ll try, no promises, stopping arrows isn’t my thing.” Already the Stark wolf’s odd behavior caught some attention. It doesn’t take long for the men around camp to figure out what has the pup so interested. Someone calls out the alarm and men, some dressed, some not so much, come running at them with swords, spears, and yes a few bowmen too.

Peter meets the boy’s beast halfway between them and the gathering soldiers. The large black mass sits down, uncaring of the pups growling. A deeper growl sounds through the field and in an instant the young direwolf is on its back showing the Alpha it’s belly. Riddick smiles at the scene then walks forward with his arm raised, showing the men behind the wolves that he has no weapons drawn.

The men come to a halt behind the two wolves, looking both terrified and confused. Riddick keeps walking at a slow pace until he comes up next to Peter. “I’m here to speak with the Starks,” he calls out. “I have something here that might interest them.” He flips the prisoner off his shoulder and lets him drop with a thud to the ground between Peter and the other wolf.

The golden knight rolls around on the ground to get himself onto his back. He takes a deep gulping breath then glares daggers up at Riddick. Murmurs quickly follow from the men close enough to recognize the Lannister, word begins to spread like wildfire. Calls sound out for Lord Stark.

_ Here they come. _ The black wolf chuffs, muzzle aimed up towards a break opening in the line of archers. The northerners are built differently from the southern soldiers he and Peter had encountered while they’d been doing recon those few first days. Bigger, rougher, probably tougher as well, not too mention better disciplined.

The tall lad with auburn curls that leads the way, hefty furs on his back and a broadsword at his hip, is no doubt Robb Stark. He’s surrounded by other larger men, dressed in the same heavy furs. The only woman there is at Robb’s left side, by her colouring and the way she’s hugging herself next to the boy leaves Riddick to conclude she must be his mother.

“Who goes there!” Robb Stark calls out, strong and sure. His gaze flickers between the wolves and Riddick.

“Name’s Riddick and this here’s…” he hesitates, Peter isn’t really an intimidating wolf name. “Hale.” It would have to do. “Are you the Stark boy?”

The boy’s mother leans to whisper in his ear. “I am Robb Stark of Winterfell. Is that your direwolf?”

Riddick looks at Peter and back to the boy. “He’s not mine, we’re partners, in a way,” he says and shrugs.

“My men say you have the Kingslayer. Are you here for a ransom wildling?” Robb takes a few steps away from his group. “Grey Wind! Heel.” A frown creases the boy’s face when the pup stays at Peter’s side, tail wagging happily.

“I don’t know what a wildling is, so I’ll say no to that. I want to speak with you in private, wolf boy.”

“How dare you address the young Lord so.” A very large man with a graying beard growls out. The sentiment echoes through the ranks.

Again the boy’s mother comes to join him, her eyes sternly studying the scene for a moment. “For your gift of the Lannister, you have our thanks. If you agree to stay your tongue and give my son the respect he’s due, you may have your audience, with my son  _ and _ his chosen bannermen.”

Riddick crosses his arms and tilts his head in a mock imitation of a curious beast. “Respect is earned, Lady, and he’s not my Lord. I can take my gift and go.”

Robb raises a hand to stop a boy next to him from drawing his bow. There’s a hint of a smile on the Lordling’s face. “At ease Theon. An audience is a small price to pay for the gift we’ve been offered today, though only if you promise to tell me the tale of how you came to have a direwolf at your side. I’ll also need Grey Wind back.”

Riddick nods, the boy is already earning his respect. At least he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. “Sounds fair,” he says and looks around at the men gathered there. “I’d choose your Bannermen for this audience very, very carefully. The fewer the better.”

The boy issues some orders and as quickly as it started, most everyone goes back to what they’d been doing before Riddick and Peter had arrived. A large man with long black hair and a thick black beard, Robb had called the man  _ Smalljon _ , came marching forward with a few others to fetch the Lannister. 

The northerners cheer and jeer while the prisoner is hauled away. Robb calls his wolf once more, Peter noses the pup and it bounded away to rejoin its master. “Come, my squire will show you to a tent where you can refresh yourself. You’ve caught us unprepared for guests.” The boy smiles, even if it’s a little forced.

Riddick suppresses a sigh. He’s had enough of court niceties at Khan’s side, why can’t anyone just get to the point anymore? “If I must,” he says.

The Lady mother gives Riddick a stern side eye. “Yes, you must.”

Riddick pats Peter’s head twice roughly. “Come on, Kitty,” he says and follows the squire, grinning at the Lady mother as he brushes past her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Peter waits patiently, still in his Alpha Shift, next to the fire in the Lords tent. Riddick is seated away from the flickering light, eyes watching those chosen to protect the Stark boy. The archer boy named Theon stands to Robbs right, while the mother continues to be a stern figure on his left. Two giant men, father and son from Peter’s understanding, join them as well.

The only other presence is Grey Wind who stays at his master’s side, tongue lolling out to the side with his eyes fixed on Peter.

It’s a smaller group than he’d expected but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A smaller group will lessen the chance of this going sour. 

“Alright Ser Riddick, what is so worth asking me in private that you’d go to the effort of capturing Jaime Lannister on your own?” Robb is a smart boy despite his youth, Peter knows that it’s not just from all the whispers in his ears either. 

“It’s Riddick,” the Furyan says gruffly, almost annoyed. “I’ll let him explain, he’s the talker.” He jerks his head in Peter’s direction.

Peter shakes his head ruefully before he starts to shift slowly.

Riddick stands and eyes the two big men in the tent. “Not a move from you. Just wait.” His voice drops so low its almost a growl. 

A shocked gasp erupts from Lady Stark as Peter’s form becomes more and more human. “By the Seven.” The woman spins away abruptly, hiding her red tinged face.

“You could have at least tossed me my clothes first.” Peter sighs, it’s not that he’s bothered by his nudity. He’s got a great body but it’s not exactly how he likes to meet people. “You’ll have to excuse the subterfuge Lord Stark, I’ve always found actions speak louder than words, however.” 

“Thought you like making an impression,” Riddick says, tossing him his clothes.

Peter catches the clothes with a snort then sets about getting dressed as soon as Riddick steps in to shield his back. The lord and his bannermen remain frozen in shock until he turns back around. “That’s much better, I also believe  _ proper _ ,” He gives the Furyan a light glare, “introductions are in order. My name is Peter Hale.”

“I thought wargs only controlled wolves?” Robb asks as he’s the first to get over his shock. He looks from Peter to Riddick in near awe.

“Oh, there’s nothing like me in this world Stark, not yet anyway.” Peter smirks while finding himself a seat. He leans back comfortably, looking relaxed despite the situation. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

  
  


Khan blinks when the fingers snap in his face and the next thing he knows he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff. He quickly jumps back and looks around. It’s night, he appears to be alone on some kind of a rocky ledge. His eyes quickly adjust to what little light there is and he turns back towards the cliff. He can see lights flickering in the distance, torches, and his ears pick up the neigh of a horse.

There’s a flash of light a couple of meters away from him and Khan quickly covers his eyes. He lowers his arm as soon as the light fades and frowns at the being now standing there with his back to him. Even from behind he can tell it's not the same being that brought him here, at least in appearance.

It seems this new person had been in the middle of speaking as well, his words seeming out of place while he waves his arms in the air. “ -re‘s Peter?” Silence follows and the man huffs dejectedly. “Oh come on! Not today Q!” There’s a bit more arms waving and dirt kicking. “Q! This is my vacation you’re fucking up, give me back my husband and send me back home!” Again, only silence meets his pleas. A subvocal rumble starts unexpectedly, it’s almost like something Khan would hear from Riddick yet distinct in its own way.

The creature, whatever it is, begins to turn and Khan instinctively assumes a relaxed fighting stance. The first thing he notices is the glowing blue eyes, then the unmistakable changes in the creature’s facial features even as it turns to fully face him. The ears grow and become more Vulcan-like in shape, the bridge of its nose merges with its forehead and thickens and those are definitely fangs beginning to stick out from pulled back lips.

The creature freezes as soon as it sees him and the changes to its face sink back in faster than they appeared. The creature now looks like a normal young human. “You’re not Q,” the man says with certainty. 

Khan relaxes his stance just enough as to not further alarm the other. “No, I’m not… and I take it neither are you.”

There’s a loud snort. “No fucking way I’m anything like that douchebag.” The man sighs before very slowly making his way towards Khan. “I take it you’ve been hijacked too?”

Khan steps to the side and forward just as slowly to meet the other halfway and put some distance between his back and that cliff. He’s taking no chances. “I was in my rooms with my Mate, then this being appeared much the same way you just did.” His eyes narrow as he tries to read and hear the other’s reactions. There is no change in the man’s heart rate, nothing to give Khan a clue as to his intentions. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow when he catches the other trying to sniff the air between them. Was he trying to get his scent? Interesting.

The man hums in the back of his throat. “I was on a space station deep in the alpha quadrant… finally about to have some leave too. Q’s a dick.”

Khan’s muscles stiffen up. “Alpha quadrant? Federation space?”

“Yup.” The man pops the P loudly while eyeing Khan thoughtfully, like the creature is able to pick up on his change of mood. “Not a fan of the Federation?” The question is asked casually, like he’s been asked about the weather.

“More like they are not fans of me,” Khan says and offers the other a wolfish grin.

“Well, your face isn’t familiar so if you were _really_ on Starfleet’s shit list, I’d know.” The man shrugs.

“Ah, so you are Starfleet as well. Which century?” If this man was from before or during Kirk’s time this could be a problem for them. If he was not careful his family could once again be in danger.

“Which century?” The man looks at Khan with a deep scowl for a few moments before he seems to realize something. His shoulders sag, “I hate Q so much… ugh. Mid 24th century, I’m not giving you an exact year cause messing with time is stupid.” Quite suddenly his mood changes and he smiles, a little forced but still genuine, though he doesn’t offer to shake hands. “Lieutenant Commander Stiles Stillinski, Deputy Chief of Security for Deep Station 9.” 

“Mid 24th century...huh, I thought the Federation would be history by then or close to dissolving.” He frowns, something doesn’t add up. He looks at the young man in front of him more carefully. Either way, he’s far enough removed from Kirk’s century to not pose a threat to their plans. “My name is Khan Noonien Singh.”

There’s an almost comical gasp in response. “No way!” The man steps a little closer to study Khan critically. “You're not even the right colour dude… What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, he is Khan Noonien Singh, just in a different meat suit.” The flash of light is just a bit brighter than necessary when Q appears right behind Lieutenant Stillinski, his mouth close to the man’s ear. “I plucked him from a completely different universe,” he whispers. “So there’s no need to worry about those pesky timelines, as your Augmented friend over there has already guessed.” He pops out and appears between them, draping an arm over each of them. “Having fun yet?”

The younger man tuts in disgust before aggressively shoving himself away from Q. “When are you going to understand that no one likes your little stunts Q. Take us home, now!” Blue eyes glow in the dark.

Khan slowly turns his head to look at the arm on his shoulder then looks into the being’s eyes. Q smiles at him but it fades away under Khan’s icy gaze and he steps back, releasing him.

“Well,” Q says, sounding like a sullen child. “You try and bring some fun in people's lives…”

“Where is Riddick?” Khan growls low.

Q throws his arms in the air with a dramatic sigh. “Where’s Stiles, where’s Khan, where’s Riddick! You’re all so dull!” 

“Hey! My life could use a little bit dull. If you wanted us to have fun, you could have dropped us on Riza! Not in a freaking desert!” Stiles kicks some dirt towards Q.

Q gasps indignantly. “Does Riza have dragons though? I didn’t think so,” Q says and steps near the edge of the ledge. “Down there a miracle is about to take place but I fear it’ll be short lived...unless,” he looks at them and grins. “A genius who knows how to rule and a genius with a heart of gold can help guide the Mother of Dragons down the right path.”

Stiles frowns. “And if we play along with this game of yours, you’ll send us back as usual?”

Khan crosses his arms. “What happens if I don’t play your little game?”

Q grins. “You’ll be stuck here and you’ll never see your husbands again.”

“Name your terms,” Khan says. He’s not sure why Stillinski assumes that if they play along they’ll go home, but he seems more familiar with this Q being.

“All you have to do is keep the Mother of Dragons safe while teaching her how to be a proper ruler. If you stay at her side and help her make the right choices you will be reunited with your husbands. Here’s a hint! Wait until the lone horseman is in need, save his life and in the Dragon Mother’s heart you’ll soon be. Good luck!” Q was gone.

* * *

“That was a terrible rhyme,” Khan says and looks at Stiles with a perfectly deadpan expression.

“He likes to think he’s good at them,” Stiles takes in another lungful of the Augment’s scent. It’s different from an average human’s, subtler along with a little something that pulls at his wolfy sense. Very different from Bashir but he can still make a connection between the two. “He’s terrible at them though, pisses Jean-Luc off to no end.”

“So, I’m to understand that this...being has been at this for a while now? What does he want?”

“Oh yeah, guess this is your first run in with the Q.” Stiles walks towards the edge of the cliff and waits there. He needs a bit of time to absorb. “And Q’s… complicated.”

“First and hopefully the last, or I will find a way to kill him.” Khan’s words make the beta turn back. It’s not as odd as it should be that he looks bored despite the fact that he’s talking about murder. A lot like Peter that way.

“You’ll have to get in line, right behind Peter.” Stiles chuckles bitterly. “The Q, yeah that means there’s more than one, are an omnipotent race that generally keep to themselves. Except for this one Q, no, this one _likes_ to meddle. He’s like a kid with a magnifying glass and we’re the ants.” He looks up at the stars. “Keeps his promises though, he’s solid on that at least. He’s done this sorta thing before; sent a senior bridge crew to play Robin Hood once…” 

Khan doesn’t join him at the cliff. “I don’t believe in gods, but I understand that we have to play along, for now.” He sighs then grins. “Robin Hood? If only our game sounded as light hearted as that. I’m growing weary of war.” 

Stiles nods, there’s a story there but he’s got the feeling Khan’s not the chatty sort. “Strangely enough, I know what you mean.” He turns back to look at the pyre building in the distance. “Dragons _are_ cool at least. As long as that fire over there isn't for us, I’d say we’re off to a decent start.” 

The beta closes his eyes to let his other senses do the work. “There were a lot more people and horses here earlier, they left twenty behind. Mostly women, the young and those too old. Just a few men in their prime, not enough to guard them.” He trails off sadly, not off to a good start after all. 

Khan finally moves to join him on the edge, though he still keeps a good distance between them. “You can tell all that from here?” He pauses and tilts his head. “Do you hear that?” 

“They’re burning someone alive…” Stiles stomach lurches and he walks away from the edge. “Even if I couldn’t hear it, I can smell it.” He coughs to clear his throat. “Ugh, it’s all over the air now.” He grabs onto his shirt collar to cover his nose and mouth even if it’s all in vain. “Consider yourself lucky that all you can do is hear it.” 

“My creators thought an augmented sense of smell would be more of a hindrance than an advantage in our case. Chemical weapons were not unusual... Here.” He holds out a piece of cloth. “It’s scented.” 

“Well, they sure made you light on your feet.” Stiles turns, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d heard the man’s heartbeat approaching, he wouldn’t have noticed how close Khan had gotten. A light scent, almost like violets drifts up from the offered kerchief. “Werewolf nose has it’s up and downs until you get used to it. You sure you don’t mind?” It’s difficult to read Khan’s mood, he doesn’t seem to have any tells. 

“I don’t mind, you need it more than I. Seems like the woman has stopped screaming.” He holds the kerchief out further. “The scent helps heal the lungs or ease symptoms from respiratory distress.” 

Stiles forces himself to relax, he can’t help remembering what it’s like to burn. “Thanks. Just the stronger scent is enough, I heal ridiculously fast. So you don’t have to worry about that.” He sniffs the cloth, it’s pleasant and soothing. Khan’s eyes study him subtly, the beta wonders how well the augment can see in the dark, and if he can see how Stiles is struggling to keep his shit together. “It’s nice, pretty.” He smiles before covering his face, the relief is instantaneous. “So, we’re about to see a miracle?” 

Khan tilts his head. “It’ll be my second as I seem to have just met a werewolf. Are you an alien species like a werewolf or does Earth in your universe have werewolves?” He takes a breath and seems to force himself to ask the next question. “What about Augments?”

Stiles nods to cover his embarrassment. “Sorry, I guess I should have worked up to that… Never been good at that part.” He chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his head. At least Khan isn’t the type that spooks easy, in fact he’s taking it all in rather smoothly. “So, long story short, I’m _originally_ from an Earth crawling with Supernatural critters, werewolves included. No Augments there though. Then one day, some assholes kidnap us to their little pocket universe which then led to Peter and I escaping to _another_ universe. One where there was a Eugenics war in the mid 20th century and Starfleet is thriving in the 24th.” He looks over Khan’s shoulder, “There’s something else happening.” 

Khan turns and walks back to the edge. “Looks like someone is walking into the flames of their own volition.”

“I’m starting to think this world is really fucked up.” Stiles joins the disturbingly calm Augment. Strangely, he's starting to find it comforting.

* * *

They had watched the fire burn all night without much happening. The few people left around the pyre had all fallen asleep. All except a man in armor, the only one in a knight’s armor, who had paced around the pyre all night. As the light began to chase the darkness away and the pyre was no more than smoldering coals the man dared to walk across its remains, searching for something.

Khan turns to look at his new companion. The young man had a fidgety energy to him that at times he seemed to struggle to control. Throughout the night he’d sit still for long periods of time then out of nowhere jump to his feet and pace. The first couple of times he’d done that it was so sudden he’d almost made Khan jump as well. A few times he had looked at Khan as if about to ask something but instead would go back to pacing. 

Every time, except once. It was late, the sliver of moonlight just enough to offer a source of light that wasn’t that funeral pyre. Stiles had sat a few feet away looking morose. “So, you’re married?”

Khan stared a moment. He was not one to share much about his personal life with strangers but the other man seemed like he really needed to talk. “No. At least not in the sense that most would consider married. Riddick and I are bonded. How about you?” 

The man smiles. “Yeah, I mean, we were kinda _bonded_ way before actually taking that dive. It’s been a few years now…” The smile wilts a little. “Peter’s gotta be so pissed right now.” 

Khan nods. “Riddick as well. He tried to attack Q and he…” His mouth goes dry and he has to clear his throat. “I don’t know what he did with Riddick. He was there then he was gone.” 

“In the past, the crew never really realized Q had been messing around. He can mess with time, there’s a chance they’re just sorta frozen in time.” Stiles blows out a breath, it’s a little shaky. “If Q had been mad enough to punish Riddick, he would have told you about it. He likes to gloat.” 

Khan nods, aware that the other is probably trying to comfort him. “You know more about this Q than I, so I’ll take your word for it. Is it possible he sent them somewhere like he did us?” 

Stiles’ head shoots up, he looks surprised that he hadn’t considered it. “You know what, that sounds just like Q.” He purses his mouth. “So, there’s a big chance your Riddick and my Peter are out there somewhere, together…” 

Khan hums thoughtfully and considers the man before him. So far they’ve been getting along fine but...Stiles seemed more on the submissive side, so that would mean… “What’s Peter like?”

There's a bit of an odd laugh. “There’s a loaded question. Peter’s a werewolf, like me but he’s an Alpha while I’m a beta.” Stiles scoots a bit closer. “You remind me of him in some ways actually. He’s a commander on the same station as me. What’s Riddick like?” 

Khan blinks. If he reminds Stiles of Peter then maybe the same would go for Riddick. “Riddick is...very Alpha in some ways. I’m by no means a beta though I guess he likes to think so. Mostly though he’s a smartass but generally easy going. He’s the only one who can...calm me down.”

Stiles grimaces a little. “Beta isn’t actually like a personality thing, it’s literally just a difference in biology. My eyes glow blue, an alpha’s always red. Peter can do a full shift into a giant wolf monster, I can’t.” He opens his mouth to go on and pauses, face going a bit red. “Sorry, probably not what you meant. Riddick sounds like he’ll probably get along with Peter, they can be smartasses together.” 

Khan chuckles. “I meant no offence about the beta thing. Thank you for explaining. With Riddick’s people being a beta means being submissive to the Alphas. He and I are...an anomaly.”

“Oh,” he says looking more embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have made assumptions either, sorry. And I guess technically, you weren’t really wrong. Peter is my Alpha, if we were in a regular pack, he could boss me around if he was jerk like. So I guess, we’re an anomaly too.” He gives Khan a crooked smile then turns to look back at the dying pyre before getting up to pace around some more.

Khan walks to the edge and looks down. “I think something is happening down there,” he says, interrupting Stiles' pacing moment.

Brown eyes flicker to blue as the werewolf jogs up to Khan’s side. Stiles squints for a moment with a tilt of his head that’s all too familiar. “There’s extra heartbeats?” A deep frown of concentration creases his face. “Some people are talking but I got no clue what they’re saying…” 

Khan frowns. “You can hear heartbeats from here?” He can hear a heartbeat further than any Augment but even he can’t hear them from this distance. He looks at the young man more impressed than he cares to admit. He does hear the voices though, it almost sounds like a kind of Arabic dialect. He feels like he’s on the edge of understanding it but not quite. 

“I’m only getting this range because there’s nothing in the way. I couldn’t hear it over the fire before.” He squints even harder, inching dangerously close to the edge. “We need to get closer.” 

“Agreed,” Khan says and looks down. Seems to be a drop of about 25 meters to the bottom but there’s a second ledge in the way. That drop is no more than 12 meters. 

“If you’re ok with it,” Stiles speaks up suddenly though he looks unsure of his next words. “I can totally make that jump, if you let me carry you, it’ll save us the hike.”

Khan’s eyebrows shoot up, he did not expect that. He tries to hide a grin. “Who said anything about hiking?” he says and jumps off the ledge. 

“Hey!” The werewolf shoots up in panic before jumping himself.

Khan lands with ease and looks up in time to see the werewolf land next to him just as easily. This time he can’t hide his grin as he races to the edge of the second ledge and jumps off again. It’s a rush, nostalgic even, it had been a long time since he had met someone able to keep up with him, other than Riddick. He lands at the bottom almost disappointed it's over, a second later Stiles lands next to him.

“So this is what it’s like to have another me around.” The man chuckles, he’s obviously over his shock. “History doesn’t do you guys justice. This is gonna be easier than I thought.” He grins widely full of fangs and shining blue eyes.

Khan laughs, surprised to find that he shares the man’s enthusiasm, and shakes his head. “I _have_ missed this,” he says. Ever since they met he couldn’t help but think of the werewolf as another Augment, the similarities at least were enough to trigger Khan’s protective instincts. It made him unsure how to act around this virtual stranger. If not for the shifting, which was still a bit jarring to him, that instinct to protect would’ve surely kicked in fully. Either way, he was starting to like the other man. “You’ll have to tell me at some point what your universe’s history says about us.” He begins walking in the direction of the now extinguished pyre. 

“I’ve got the feeling we’ll get lots of time to get to know each other.” The man’s face returns to its human visage. “A few more yards and I’ll be able to see clearly, you?”

“Same, assuming there are no obstacles. We should keep an eye out for stragglers as well, many left the camp but that doesn’t mean they went far.” He wished the Q’s stupid riddle had been a bit clearer, there could be many lone riders around now in need of ‘help’. 

The other man nods quietly, now that he’s got something to focus on, that nervous energy melts away. “This should be close eno-” Stiles freezes. “Holy shit, she’s alive!” 

Khan halts as well and sees that Stiles is right, someone is rising from the ashes of the pyre, a nude woman holding something...He covers his ears as a shrill cry breaks the silence. “What the hell?” 

* * *

The heat didn’t bother Khan much, other than the minor annoyance of his body being in constant healing mode due to the sunburn, but he wondered at the stupidity of the people they were tracking. Anyone who knew anything about deserts would know not to travel when the sun was at its peak, and these people should have known better.

He and Stiles had to also keep a good distance from the group due to the terrain, too close and they would be spotted, but they were close enough that he could hear the poor beast struggling. It wasn’t long after that he heard it's pitiful neigh followed by a dull thud. “They just lost one of the horses,” he says to Stiles, though he’s sure the werewolf heard it too. He saw the younger man wince when the horse cried out. “We should get closer, are you up to picking up speed?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles answers dejectedly. He studies the area for a moment. “The hills should give us enough cover to move in closer than usual.” 

“You read my mind,” Khan says and begins an easy jog. So far Stiles hadn’t complained about the heat and he seemed to be healing just as fast as him from any superficial skin damage. The slow pace had more to do with keeping themselves out of sight and being able to hear any conversations. “Higher ground,” is all the warning he gives the werewolf before he leaps up one of the rocky hills. Once on top he crouches down and crawls to the other side. Stiles is at his side almost instantly. “There they are.”

The girl is kneeling next to the fallen horse, the knight at her side. She looks at him and he shakes his head. The horse is as good as gone, if they’re smart they’ll slaughter it for nutrition.

“She was Drogo’s first gift to me,” the girl says. Her tone tells Khan all he needs to know.

“I remember,” the Knight replies.

“I promised to protect them. I promised them their enemies would die screaming,” she goes on. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, though probably too dehydrated to shed any. “How do I make starvation scream?”

“I feel sorry for her, but I hope they eat the horse…” Stiles whispers quietly just before a long gurgle sounds from his stomach. “I could eat that whole thing myself right now…”

Khan grins at the mental image then feels bad for not considering his companion might be hungry as well. “We could hunt tonight if you want. There’s always small game in deserts, just need to know where to look.” He turns his attention back to the girl as she calls one of the men in their language. He has picked up some of their language, it had many similarities to languages he knew and he’d been memorizing words for six days now. “I think she’s telling them to ride out and look for people, water, and how far the desert goes.” 

“That’s the first smart thing she’s done since walking into this damn wasteland.” Stiles leans back on his heels with a thoughtful expression. “You think this could be it? The lost horseman?” He points to the three riders the girl has summoned. “There’s three of ‘em though…” The werewolf blows out a breath then turns to Khan expectantly. 

Khan watches the exchange, considering Stiles questions. One of the three seems to be more familiar with her, his suspicions are confirmed when she follows the man to his horse and speaks with him further. Her tone is soft and worried. “That one,” he tells Stiles. 

The werewolf tilts his head in the direction Khan points. “I can’t understand what they’re saying but I think you’re right. She’s sweet on this one.” Stiles takes a deep breath. “I’m not close enough to filter out his scent from the others. Once he’s further off, I’ll just have to track the horse.” He turns his head to study Khan carefully. “I’m assuming you can keep up?” 

“You assume correctly,” Khan says. He waits long enough to see which direction the rider is taking and then eases back from the edge. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Stiles comes to a stop, he motions for Khan to follow his lead as he crouches in the rushes. “He’s stopping,” he whispers despite their distance from their query, the night has fallen and every sound seems to travel further. “I think he’s found water.” 

Khan kneels beside him with only a quiet nod in response. 

“I want to get closer if he decides to make camp, try to get some of that water.” He’s not sure how long Khan can go with only the bare necessities. So far they’d made due with the few shallow puddles, more like micro swamps really, that Stiles had been able to sniff out. “Don’t know about you, but I’m starting to run on fumes here…” 

Khan glances at him. “Some clean water would be nice for a change,” he says. “My body can handle almost anything but my taste buds are a different matter.” He grins briefly. “I’ve become spoiled these last couple of years.” 

Stiles snorts in agreement. “Tell me about it, at this point I wouldn’t even mind some MRE’s… Starfleet’s aren’t exactly great but it beats swamp water.” He tilts his head when Rakharo, the Dotharaki under their watchful eyes, lets his horse wander off. “I think he’s letting the horse graze, shouldn’t be hard to circle around to the other side.” 

“Worried the horse might sniff you out?” Khan says and begins to move. “I’m guessing you’d smell like a predator to it.” 

“Yeah, without being able to calm it down, the horse will just get spooked.” At least that’s what Stiles is assuming, animals tend to be wary of him until he’s able to establish some measure of trust. Also, he’s never been around a real horse as a werewolf. 

They circle quietly through the tall grass, the pond is shallow but it’s enough to have lusher vegetation all around it. They come to a natural embankment and the beta goes to take a deep drink. A few moments later the rider is rolling out a small bedroll, Stiles hears him tapping the dirt, then a tired huff followed by a thud. “I think he’s getting ready to sleep. I can take the first watch.” 

“Thanks, though I’m more tempted to take a dip,” he says looking at the water longingly but lays down anyway. He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. “Wake me in an hour.” 

“If you’re sure.” Stiles shrugs. He’s given up arguing with the man, Khan is stubborn but also actually capable of handling himself. Travelling with an Augment isn’t all that different from being around another werewolf. He’s enjoying not having to worry about the other’s safety, it helps that Khan is smart and practical too. It makes him feel like he’s not totally packless right now. 

He sits down out of view to let his mind relax. It’s best if he just fills his senses, he doubts much will happen tonight but he’d rather not get caught with his pants down so to speak. 

Roughly thirty minutes go by peacefully with the only sounds coming from the two sleeping men. Stiles is doodling in the dirt, it’s starting to look a little bit like DS9… 

The silence breaks suddenly, in the distance Stiles hears horses and men coming their way. Probably attracted by the light smoke left over from their horseman’s fire. “Shit, Khan,” he hisses the augment’s name quietly, “we’ve got company.” Stiles doesn’t get to close in case his companion is the sort to wake up with fists flying.

Khan’s eyes fly open and is on his feet with a perfect kip-up. He looks around and his eyes fall on Stiles. He blinks then tilts his head. “Horses?” he asks and frowns.

“Six of ‘em, with riders.” Stiles looks back in the direction of their sleeping charge. He scrambles to think of a plan. “Think you know enough to wake him and warn him that trouble is coming? I’ll run up ahead to slow them down until you can join me.” 

Khan’s frown deepens. “Probably, doesn’t mean he’ll listen to a stranger waking him in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.” He curses under his breath and looks around them. “I should have thought this might happen.” He looks at Stiles again. “I don’t know if we should seperate.”

Stiles frowns with a slump of his shoulders. “You’re right, we should have thought about this.” He pauses to get another read on the trouble heading their way. “Fuck it, he’ll hear the commotion, we can talk him into trusting us afterwards.” He makes to run out but stops as another thought occurs to him. “Let’s try not to hurt the horses. Six fresh horses is a pretty good way of getting in Daenerys' good graces.” 

Khan makes a face, something between amusement and disgust. “I would never harm a horse.” He grins. “Humans on the other hand…” He walks a few feet past Stiles to presumably check on their rider.

“I should’ve figured you’d say that.” Stiles chuckles with a shake of his head. At least the moonlight is bright enough that they’ll be able to keep the fight clean, hopefully. “They're almost here, let’s go!” 

* * *

Stiles breaks into a run, he knows Khan is right behind him and that he doesn’t have to wait. He’s a few yards out when the six riders come into view in a V formation, despite being at a full gallop the men are quiet with their weapons already drawn. He shifts as he runs then goes on all fours to get a longer stride. His clothing rips and tears from the hard tall grass whipping past him. “Taking the leader first.” Stiles' speech is slightly hindered from his fangs but he’s pretty sure Khan heard him. 

The moment comes quickly and Stiles doesn’t hesitate to leap from cover, he aims for the first rider. A startled shout of surprise and the man is tackled from his horse with a gurgling scream, the spray from his torn jugular arching in the moonlight. 

He looks around for his next target and sees Khan leaping on the second horse, right behind its rider. Khan snaps the man’s neck with one hand and claims his sword with the other. He tosses the dead Dothraki off the horse and swings the animal around with practiced ease, taking the next rider’s head clean off with one smooth swipe of the curved sword. 

Stiles lets out an impressed whistle as he makes a run for another rider who’s trying to go for Khan’s back. He grabs the man’s leg to pull him off his horse, a blood curdling scream rings out and the beta is shocked by the lone leg in his grip. “Oops.” The Dotharaki falls from his horse screaming in agony. “Sorry buddy.” The beta apologises as he snaps the man’s neck. 

Silence follows, just the whining of spooked horses. Stiles looks up, a little confused when he sees Khan trotting casually his way. “Done already?” 

The Augment has a big smile on his face as well as a splatter of blood across it. “It’s been a while since I fought on horseback, seems I haven’t lost my touch,” he says and looks around. “I should go fetch the other horses. Are you alright?”

Stiles’ eyebrows go up at the concern. “Yeah, I mean…” He looks down at the lone leg at his side with a grimace. “Not exactly my idea of a good time,” he leans his head to the side to spit out the blood in his mouth. “At least we make a good team, right?” He wants a sonic shower more than ever before in his life. “I’ll wait here, our horseman is coming to investigate. I don’t think I should be the first one he meets…” 

Khan’s eyes flicker over the carnage around Stiles. His eyes pausing for a moment longer on the severed leg. “I wish I had you on my team a few years back,” he says and nods his head, it's more like a slight bow than a nod. “I’ll deal with our ward first then. Might want to retract those fangs for the introductions.” He turns the horse around and sets it to a lazy trot. “M'ach!” he calls out as he nears the rider. 

Stiles nods sheepishly, he’s gotten so used to being able to shift at will that he’s forgotten it’s not a sight the people of this world would welcome. He wipes his mouth with the tattered remains of his shirt with a dejected sigh. A bath in that little pond is probably for the best but first they have to secure their new companion. 

Stiles keeps himself a few feet behind Khan as Rakharo approaches them on his horse. “Show time.” He chuckles a little, more from nervousness than anything else because really, who knows if they’ll actually be able to reason with this man. Maybe they’ll have to just give him a good knock on the head… 

Khan speaks a few words to the man as he gets closer and Rakharo reins in his horse. He says something back to Khan and the Augment seems to struggle to find the right words.

“You,” Rakharo says with a thick accent. “Westerosy, yes? Why here?”

Khan looks back at Stiles and raises an eyebrow before turning his attention back to Rakharo. “Yes, we are...Westerosy. Those men,” he says, waving a hand at the dead Dothraki not far off from where they are. “They were coming here to kill you.”

Rakharo eyes them suspiciously and guides his horse to the nearest dead man. “This Khal Pono men.” He spits on the corpse. “No...honor. You kill?”

Khan nods. “We did. I’m Khan, my friend there is Stiles.”

“I Rakharo,” the man says, once again approaching them. “Your friend, fall off his horse?” he grins. 

“Horses and I... “ Stiles approaches slowly and stops in the shadow of Khan’s horse, he’s hoping the gore and blood aren't too obvious. “They don’t like me much.” He shrugs at a loss for words. 

Khan moves his horse to the side a bit to block Rakharo’s view. “My friend didn’t fall off his horse because he was not on a horse,” Khan says sternly. “But he killed two men who were on horses.”

Rakharo’s eyebrows lift up and he eyes Stiles with some confusion. “Westorosy strange but...good strange, yes?” 

Stiles chuckles, the man isn’t far off. “I’ve been called worse.” He looks back to see a few horses wondering over their way, probably looking for the pond. “Hopefully, we’re not so strange that you wouldn’t mind our company? Not a very friendly neighborhood.” 

Rakharo frowns as if he doesn’t understand everything. “You want come with me?” he asks.

Stiles considers his next words more carefully, he’s gotta remember there’s no translator to help out. “Safety in numbers? You're alone here, and well… we’re lost?” He puts on an embarrassed expression hoping he’s selling a good story. 

Rakharo laughs. “Yes, I alone, you lost.” He looks at Khan. “But I go end and back, find...end for Khalessi.” He waves a hand in frustration. “I not alone before?”

“You have others with you and you are trying to help them,” Khan says. “We can help you with that.”

Rakharo nods. “Yes, lost men help me,” he says and laughs. “Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, we want to say a big thank you to everyone who commented and kudo'd!  
> We're having a blast writing this and hope you all continue to enjoy it along with us!


	3. 3

**Chapter 3**

  
  


Where we left off...

_ “I thought wargs only controlled wolves?” Robb asks as he’s the first to get over his shock. He looks from Peter to Riddick in near awe. _

_ “Oh, there’s nothing like me in this world Stark, not yet anyway.” Peter smirks while finding himself a seat. He leans back comfortably, looking relaxed despite the situation. _

Now…

“And what would it mean, exactly, for my family to accept this offer, to be like you,” Catelyn Stark frowns slightly at Peter, he can tell she’d been about to call him Ser like they had with Riddick. She's clearly suspicious but she hadn't accused him of lying, he could work with that.

“Alpha Hale, if you insist on being formal Lady Stark.” He smiles gently, most everyone present is still on edge from his transformation. “Peter is fine though.” Over the years he’s learned to loosen up a bit on how people address him, mostly thanks to Stiles who still loathes all manner of formality. Riddick seems to be of the same mind in that respect. Besides, he's more relatable as just Peter then he would be as Alpha Hale. “As I said earlier, there is no one like me in Westeros. If you accept my offer; disease will never touch you, you’ll be faster and stronger than three men. Old age will be measured in centuries, even the most grievous of injuries can be overcome. Short of losing your head, your heart, or getting bifurcated by a broadsword…” He smiles widely. “You get the idea I’m sure.” Peter leans forward to take a cup of wine from the wooden table while looking towards Riddick who is standing next to his chair. He wonders how the Furyan is taking the news along with the Starks, he’s laid a lot at everyone's feet just now. 

Riddick removes his goggles and looks down at him, his eyes shimmering as they reflect the firelight. “Sounds like a sweet deal to me,” the Furyan rumbles and looks at the Starks. 

“Indeed, it almost seems too good to be true.” Robb’s words are cautious, he does a bit of a double take at the shimmer of the Furyan’s eyes.

Peter smirks, “There are some things to consider.” He takes another sip of wine, it's not bad but it wont do anything for him. A wry chuckle escapes his throat. “For starters, you’ll never be able to get drunk again. Because your bodies will process everything faster than it can affect you, even poisons. If you’re injured so much that it’ll take a long time to heal, you’ll have to endure the pain but even then, another werewolf could take your pain onto themselves for temporary relief.” He grimaces, his own memories flitting to the surface before he pushes them aside to meet the Stark boy’s searching look with a benign smile. “And finally, I’m sorry to say there’s some uncertainty regarding whether you will adopt a lunar cycle or follow the day Shift cycle I’ve become accustomed to.”

“Cycles?” Catelyn asks tightly while she inches closer to her son. She smells of anxiety and fear, Peter’s impressed at how well she’s hiding it though.

“Werewolves ruled by the moon experience heightened aggression with every full moon. The behaviour can become… problematic without a strong anchor to maintain the wolf’s humanity.” He gives Riddick another look, he’d warned the man about this already though he hadn’t gotten around to his own predicament. “If you turn out like myself, then you will experience a day Shift cycle every 28 days. You’ll wake up transformed, unable to take a fully human shape, and hungry like you’ve never imagined… Other…  _ urges _ aren’t uncommon but despite all this you’ll be in control of your mind and return to normal by the next sunrise.”

“Why offer us this?” Robb asks the most important question. If they don’t answer correctly, it’s likely they’ll be turned away. 

“Your enemies stand in the way of something we want back.” Riddick says and glances at Peter. “We help you defeat them and we claim what’s ours. I suggest you take some time and consider our offer.”

Peter nods along with Riddick, it’s as good as anything he probably would have come up with. He considers what he could say or do to further convince the Starks that this is their best chance to live through this conflict. “My friend is right, take some time to consider carefully. The Starks have a long, honorable history. Even if we’re new to your land, it’s clear the Lannisters are a plaque on Westeros. You carry the direwolf as your sigil, this gift was meant for your family. All we ask in return, when your family is whole, you will aid us in making our own families whole.” He finishes his drink before rising. “As a final show of our sincerity, we can interrogate the Kingslayer in a manner that he won't be maimed afterwards either. I wouldn’t take too long to decide however, his forces will regroup sooner than later. We’ll go back to wait in the tent you generously offered. Lord Stark.” He half bows before making his way out, he probably should have waited to get dismissed but he’s wary from the conversation. He’s gotten too used to being in a position where he can simply give orders and be trusted.

Riddick falls in next to him as they make their way to the tent. The Furyan says nothing until they are inside. He watches Peter settle for a moment and removes his goggles again. “I wasn’t lying, that did sound like a sweet deal. Does it work with anyone?” 

Peter looks up at the man in surprise, the way the man’s eyes catch the light is a constant reminder that while Riddick is no wolf, he’s not human either. In Peter’s opinion, Riddick has his own gift. Though he won't deny that he wasn't intrigued by the notion. “That’s… complicated.” He sighs heavily then concentrates on Riddick's mind so they won’t risk being overheard.  _ In my original world, there was a chance the bite would kill instead. However, the few I have gifted since my last universe jump took to the transformation like they’d been born to it. It should work on any humanoid species. _ He frowns, “Now that I’m thinking of it, how is it this works with you? It only works with other telepaths yet I don’t sense you’re actually one.” 

Riddick shrugs. “I’m told I have some Betazoid and maybe even a bit of Vulcan in my ancestry. My species evolved into Furyans from a coming together of those species with Augments.” 

“Fascinating.” Peter shakes his head. “Spock would have a field day with you. No wonder you keep up so easily.” 

“Spock?” Riddick says surprised. “Khan will have a field day with that. So the ‘pointy eared bastard’ is still alive in your time?” 

Peter gets up with a laugh to pace around the tent while he thinks. He remembers how old man McCoy had always called Spock that. Though judging by Riddick’s tone, it was definitely more endearing coming from the doc that it was from Khan. “He’s an old Vulcan now, surprisingly still sprie for his age, not sure why your Khan would dislike him. As far as Vulcan’s go he’s probably the most… human.” He looks at Riddick’s face carefully. “Well if you do have Vulcan ancestry, it’s really far back.” He chuckles before adding another log to the fire then sits back on his fur covered chair. 

Riddick walks further in and sits on the opposite chair. “Aquilans have more Vulcan in them than Furyans, some even have the ears. Furyan’s are mostly Augments with some Betazoid. At least that’s what Aereon says.” He tilts his head. “This whole shift thing, the bite, kind of sounds like a viral thing.” 

Peter nods, impressed. “We didn’t know about the particulars until after I saved a friend’s life. It's a lot like a phage virus, only carried in Alphas. It lies dormant until it comes in contact with foreign antibodies. After that, full conversion of the cells takes anywhere from a few hours to a few days.” 

Riddick hums. “Interesting. Explains why it would kill some while changing others.” 

“There’s even a few papers published on the process,” Peter shrugs, his bite always takes. He’s sure there won't be any rejections as long as he picks carefully. “Though I suppose, they wouldn’t even exist in your universe.”

“You don’t have Augments, we don’t have werewolves. Kind of a shame really.”

“That, my friend, is very true.” He thinks of how seamlessly he and Riddick have managed to work together. “We make a good team, I’m sure our other halves are proving just as successful.”

“Probably. Khan though is...unique.” He grins, then chuckles. “He’d probably love the claws.”

“Stiles has always been one of a kind,” Peter thinks of his beta, his husband, pictures him in his mind as he closes his eyes and searches. “Still can’t feel him.” Bitterness taints his moment of levity. “I’ve got ten more days until Shift day…” He puts his head in his hands, he’s never parted from Stiles for so long. 

“If Shirah or Nyoka were here they’d find them in a second.” Riddick says, bitterness tinting his voice as well. “I haven’t parted from Khan even for a day since we bonded, it's starting to get to me.” He gives him a strange look. “You mentioned something about...urges.” 

Peter snorts, that’s an understatement. “I didn’t want Lady Stark to clutch her pearls anymore than she already was. What I should have said was they’re going to want to hump everything in sight. Stiles and I usually lock ourselves in our rooms for the day.” He grins proudly. “You have a measure of control over it, I’m not saying they’ll lose all reason. Having a partner sure helps though. A lot of cold showers those first few months.” 

Riddick stares then bursts out laughing. “Khan will love that,” he barks in between and slaps his knee. He calms down some and looks at Peter. “Things like that make him...uncomfortable.” 

“Well, that’ll get awkward… Stiles is… talkative.” He sighs wistfully. “I think we have to plan a long game here.” It’s not a new concept for him, Riddick seems to be the impatient sort though.

All humor leaves Riddick. “That’s my guess too, though I don’t like it. I’d much rather head out and look for the Beastie right now. Would be nice if we at least knew they were safe.”

“I agree. This was supposed to be our vacation. Two whole weeks on Bajor.” He looks at Riddick very carefully, “Unfortunately, the only way to keep them safe is stay put. Which means we have to talk this Lordling into letting us advise him on warfare… He’s smart, so far he’s shown that he’s got what it takes to make tough choices but he didn’t have us before.” 

“We were finally settling down ourselves,” Riddick says. “As for the boy, I think the people around him, who think they are experienced, will be more trouble than him.” 

Peter grunts in agreement. “Too many cooks in the kitchen. Hopefully, they take my offer. Stark will be my beta then, he’ll be more likely to take my opinion afterwards.” Past experience has shown him that keeping an iron hold on your betas isn’t always the way to go. It’s always easier when they think it’s their idea.

Riddick’s eyebrows go up. “So you can control your betas? Might need you to teach me that trick,” he grins. “That could be useful, if done right.” 

Peter’s lips press thinly together. “If I want to, I can to a degree. That type of Alpha doesn’t always inspire the right sort of loyalty however.” He turns to Riddick seriously. “My sister was that sort; even played with my memories to keep me in line.” He turns his gaze to the fire, not that it had worked all the time but the damage had been done. “However, an Alpha’s roar will bring any wolf to heel when the situation calls for it.” 

“Your sister sounds like a charmer,” Riddick says and leans back in his chair. “I was kidding about teaching me, Khan would probably kill me if I tried. I did it once, that was enough. Though many Furyan Alphas were like your sister. I didn’t grow up with my people, I picked up other bad habits instead.” 

Peter glances towards the Furyan with a shrug, his own past isn’t exactly stellar. “You weren’t completely kidding, but I know that’s not what you meant. I wanted you to know that’s all. I’ve made mistakes too, if you plan on asking me for the bite, these are things you should know.” He leans back in his chair with a sigh. “You’ll probably turn out to be a true Alpha.” He snorts, he sure seems to have a talent for turning unique individuals. 

Riddick smiles. “As tempting as that is, to become the beast everyone always assumed I am, I don’t think Khan would go for it.” 

He shrugs again but his words are sincere. “You’re an impressive man Riddick, one of the few people I’d say doesn’t need the gift. However, the offer stands regardless.” Peter turns his head towards their tent’s  _ door _ . “I think they’ve sent us some food.” He can’t help sounding relieved at the idea of an actual sit down meal.

Just as Riddick turns to look in the same direction, a youth pops his head in. He looks at them with fear and awe. “Lord Stark bids you accept some food while he readies his war council. He will send for you afterwards.” 

Riddick sighs and glances at Peter. “It’s like being back at the palace.” He looks back at the boy. “Well, come in, I won’t bite...he might.” 

The Alpha scoffs good naturedly. “You say the sweetest things.” He’s glad that if he’s gotta do this without Stiles, he’s at least got someone like Riddick around.

* * *

Riddick began eating as soon as the boy left. The truth was that he had been tempted to ask the werewolf if the bite was an option for him, but as soon as the man offered, Riddick knew he couldn’t. As much as built-in claws and fangs sounded useful and badass, he knew it was a choice he could not make alone. Khan was too proud of being an Augment and even if he did agree to it, Riddick doubted the bite would even take on Khan.

He also didn’t know what sort of effect it would have on their Bond. Khan had practically evolved for them to have this Bond, they were almost at the point where they could read each other's minds. Now, Khan’s absence felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a void deep inside him that all the distractions of this new world couldn’t fill. As far as he can guess from their conversations, Peter feels the same way about his mate, though, like him, he hides it well. 

Peter’s sudden alertness draws Riddick out of his musings. The werewolf’s gaze turns to the tent flap and a moment later Riddick hears footsteps right outside. The flap is pulled to the side and Lady Stark steps in. Her eyes take in their half-finished meal and settle on Peter. Riddick grins, it seems the Lady has concluded that she likes Peter more than him. Not surprising and suits Riddick fine, when people don’t like you they show you their true colors.

“I wish to speak with you.” Lady Stark says and waits tensely at the tent’s opening. 

Peter wipes his mouth with a cloth before giving the woman a pleasant smile as he stands from his seat. “Come in Lady Stark,” he gives Riddick a little side grin. “What would the Lady wish to ask with no guards about?” 

“Maybe she wants to know more about those urges,” Riddick smirks. There’s usually a good reason people don’t like him. He looks at Lady Stark. “Or maybe she’s up to something her son won’t approve of?” 

The comment earns him an eye roll from Peter and another one of those stern glares from the older woman. She ignores both their questions while carefully making her way to their table. “You said you could interrogate the Kingslayer, I have some questions for him.” 

Riddick studies the woman carefully. Whatever it is that she wants to ask the Kingslayer scares her half to death. In Riddick’s experience those are the sort of questions worth asking. The sort of questions that usually reveal monsters when answered. He looks at Peter and stands. “What do you think?” 

The man offers Lady Stark a seat but she refuses, he shrugs carelessly. “The offer was already made, I can look for specific information if you tell me what you want to know. I warn you now though, there’s a chance his mind won't survive the process.” 

“I want to know if my daughters are safe and what he knows of my son Bran.” Lady Stark is struggling to keep herself from fidgeting. The worry is clear all over her slender frame.

Riddick grunts. Lost, helpless, beasties have always been a weakness of his. He also empathizes with the woman, having lost his own Beastie in this damn universe.  _ I’m getting soft, _ he thinks and sighs. “What makes you think that pretty boy will know anything?” 

A small, very brief, smirk flashes across Lady Stark’s face at Riddick’s nickname for the Lannister man. Though her features go back to stone just as quickly. “He is the Queen’s brother, at the least he would know of their treatment thus far and what the Lannister’s truly plan to do with them. As for Bran. My son was pushed from a tower at Winterfell while he and his sister were guests in our home.” A deep anger simmers to the surface while the woman looks down at her palms. “My boy can never walk again and while he was at death’s door, the Lannisters conspired to murder him in his sickbed.” She looks up at Peter. “I must know what he knows.” 

A growl escapes Riddick before he can stop it and another comes from Peter almost simultaneously. The Lady’s eyes go wide and she takes a small step back, but her own resolve stops her despite her fear. It seems that Peter and he are of a similar mind here. Anyone who would harm a child deserves whatever they might inflict on him. “I say we help the Lady, to hell with the pretty boy’s mind.” 

When Peter turns to nod in agreement, all amusement is gone from his features while his eyes glow red eyes. “Lead the way my Lady.” The werewolf speaks tightly, that subvocal growl just barely coming through. 

Lady Stark finds her spine quickly as she realizes their responses are positive and nods, she turns around and walks out of the tent, Peter and Riddick at her heels. Their sudden exit from the tent in the Lady’s wake draws a few eyes on them but none dare to oppose. Their leaders are busy playing at war and the Lady seems to have enough respect from the soldiers to not question her.

She leads them to what seems like a makeshift cage. The pretty boy sits in the middle of it, tied to a sturdy poll. Riddick grins as he realizes that the knight is trying to look smugly bored and is failing miserably. 

Peter stops next to Riddick to scoff at the prisoner’s pitiful appearance. “Time’s up Lannister,” The werewolf walks slowly to stand behind the post keeping the blond tied to the ground then looks up. “I’ll need you to pull him up and hold him still.” The alpha crouches down to wave a clawed hand in the man’s face. “This is gonna hurt.” 

Riddick rests his arms at the top of the cage’s door frame and leans in. He is well aware how intimidating his size is and he offers the prisoner a toothy smile before strolling in. He takes out one of his saber claw knives, cuts the ropes and grabs the knight by the throat as he tries to move away. He lifts him up and holds him in front of Peter. “Like this? Or want me to rough him up a bit first?” 

“I’ll need access to the back of his neck. He cannot move until I’m done.” Peter stands then pops his neck and shoulders. “I haven't done this in a while.” He smirks darkly.

“Can do that,” Riddick says. He lets go of the man’s throat and holds his arms wide. “How about a hug?” he says with a grin and before the man can react he has him locked in a bearhug. “He stinks, so be quick,” he tells Peter. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “How do you think I feel.” He strides to stand behind the knight who’s grown quiet and stiff. “Let’s see what’s inside shall we.”

Riddick couldn’t see much from the way he was holding the prisoner but he could see Peter’s face well enough. The werewolf is standing a bit to the side with his arm held out over the back of pretty boy’s neck. Their eyes lock for a moment and Peter nods, Riddick nods back and there is a slight jerk then a gasp from the knight followed by the distinct smell of blood. Peter’s eyes close and immediately snap open only they are no longer focused. The werewolf’s face twists for a moment and his head snaps back, his breathing is also coming in irregularly. Riddick frowns unsure if this is going well or not as Peter’s eyes begin to roll to the back of his head. Riddick is trying to decide if he should put an end to this and how when Peter gasps and pulls his hand back, he turns away trying to catch his breath.

“What the hell was that?” Riddick asks, releasing the prisoner who falls limply to the ground. 

He’s joined by Catelyn as Peter steadies himself. “What’s happened?” She asks Riddick in confusion.

“That was an experience I never want again.” Peter spits on the ground, he looks on the cusps of raging out. “You should summon your son Lady Stark. Jaime’s Lannister’s crimes are… ” The alpha takes a shaky breath and marches up to the unconscious man. “I should kill him here and now.” He growls out while he hefts the body up to give it a good shake. 

Riddick glances to the Lady as Peter shakes the prisoner like a ragdoll and moves to block her view. “Perhaps now’s not the time,” he says with meaning. “What did you see?” 

Peter tuts in a mix of disappointment and disgust. He turns to Riddick coldy. “He pushed the boy off of that tower to hide the fact that he’s fucking his sister.” 

Riddick can’t keep the disgust and anger from showing on his face. “And people call me deranged,” he says and looks down at the prisoner. “What about the girls? Did you see them?” 

The wolf hesitates, taking a quick glance towards Lady Stark.

“Tell me.” She says, the words are forced and trembling.

“Sansa is safe,” He grimaces, “not that that means much giving who she’s with.” He takes a step towards the Lady, his face human again. “Arya is missing though, she hasn’t been seen since your husband’s arrest.”

* * *

Riddick waits next to the pen while someone is sent off to fetch the wolf boy. Half his attention is fixed on Peter, who’s talking softly with Lady Stark, the other half is on pretty boy, who’s finally coming out of whatever stupor Peter’s methods had him in. The knight groans and looks up. Riddick smirks down at him. The knight notices that he’s been left untied and looks wildly about then back at Riddick. Riddick’s smile turns predatory.

“Go ahead,” Riddick purrs, “Give me an excuse.” 

“What have you done to me?” His eyes seem to have trouble keeping their focus. The man groans again while trying to right himself only to sway and fall back on his ass.

Peter has left the Stark woman outside the holding pen to join Riddick. “He’s tougher than you’d expect, I’m surprised he’s conscious, let alone talking. Not that it’ll do him any good.” Peter turns back to look around, a small crowd has started to gather around them. He gives Riddick a smirk then crouches down, his next words are whispered with an odd inflection. “The things I do for love.” 

The knight goes still and deathly pale. “How?”

“Oh I know all sorts of things about you now Jaime Lannister. And soon, so will the rest of the world. So much for the family name living on.” That last comment from Peter actually frightens the pretty boy. The werewolf rises back smoothly to head back to the pen’s door, he gives Riddick an amused grin.

“Having fun?” Riddick asks and returns the grin. He knows how sweet it can be to intimidate someone like pretty boy. People who think they are above everyone else just because luck smiled at them. “Should’ve shown him some fangs too.” He turns towards the crowd as he notices a change in the mood. Seems wolf boy has finally arrived.

Peter chuffs out a laugh, “it’s the small things in life.” He gives the knight a fanged smile before turning a fully human face towards the young Lord. “Lord Stark, I’m afraid we’ve gotten some information that couldn’t wait.”

Robb looks at them both in turn then his eyes fall on the disheveled knight. “What kind of information merritts calling me away from a war council on the eve of a battle no less?” The Lording sounds a bit annoyed and it's clear to Riddick that he’s resisting the urge to glare at his mother, who is standing next to him, filled with a nervous energy.

“Robb,” Lady Stark’s tone is a bit softer than usual, “you must listen to Peter. He has news of your sisters and Bran.” She looks between everyone gathered and settles a steel gaze full of hate on the Lannister man.

The wolf boy seems torn. It seems to Riddick that he wants to keep up the act of stern leader, yet the idea of news of his sisters and brother shakes his resolve. His youth and character show when he picks family. “What news?” 

Peter stands a bit taller, like he wants to make sure everyone hears him. He exchanges a solem glance with the boy’s mother. “Sansa is only safe as long as she remains a useful hostage and the Lannister’s never had Arya to begin with, she went missing during your father’s arrest.” Another curious grimace quickly crosses the wolf’s face, something Riddick has noticed happens whenever they talk about the girls. The man turns back towards the blond. “Your mother was right, your brother Bran was pushed from that tower. The boy had caught him screwing his sister, the Queen, they had both hoped he would die in the fall to keep their secret safe.” 

Wolf boy’s eyes go so wide that Riddick thinks they might pop out of his skull. His surprise and mortification quickly turn to rage however as the full meaning of Peter’s words sinks in. Riddick knows that look, he’s seen it countless times. Robb pushes past them and into the pen. “When the sun rises, I will have you executed, Kingslayer, and I’ll ride into battle with your head on the end of my spear.” 

Cheers erupt, Riddick is liking that idea too but then sees Peter step forward to grab onto Robb’s shoulder. The wolf leans forward to whisper in the boy’s ear but he can hear what’s said easily. “As much as I share your sentiment, remember that Sansa is still a hostage. How do you think the Queen will react given what you now know of her  _ relations _ with her twin.”

Lady Stark joins Peter, “Robb, he is still Tywin Lannister’s favored son. Consider what consequences your actions could lead too.” Her voice is tight, like she’s feeling guilty for some reason.

There’s a commotion behind them, some wheezing followed by a cough. Everyone turns to watch Jaime Lannister heave himself upright with considerable effort. “Trial by combat.” He puffs out and has to take another large breath. “I demand Trial by combat.” 

Riddick crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Are you eager to die, pretty boy? You can barely stand.” 

The knight rights himself a little more, he’s obviously offended by Riddick’s words. “A moment's rest and a good sword in my hands and I could take any of you.” He glares at Riddick. “Or are you too much of a coward that you hide behind a monster.” He jutts his chin out towards Peter who only scoffs at the insult. 

Riddick throws his head back and laughs then leans in to the pen a bit and lifts his goggles. “Brother...I am the monster,” he says cheerfully and smiles. “You’re on.”

“Bring the Kingslayer a sword and some water,” Robb calls loudly then moves close to Riddick. “As much as I want him dead,” he says in a lower tone, “Peter and my mother are right. He is the only thing I have to ensure my sister’s safety.”

Riddick keeps his eyes on his prey, the knight's eyes already have some doubt in them. “I’m aware, wolf boy. I’ll just give him a good smacking.” 

“Thank you,” Lady Stark says quietly from behind Robb before she moves away to join an older man with short white hair.

Peter comes to stand between Riddick and Robb. “Smart choice Lord Stark. Once this is all dealt with, there are other things I was able to get from his head that would benefit you.” He spares a quick glance towards Riddick, the werewolf seems awfully proud of himself. “Number of troops, scout locations, standing orders. All right here.” He taps the side of his own head. 

Someone brings a sword and a cup of water for the prisoner and Riddick moves off to the side to let them pass. “You could let him rest a month while pampered and this would be an easy fight,” he says to no one in particular. He decides his saber claw knives would be enough for this.

“Don’t underestimate him, Riddick,” Robb says as he and Peter follow him off to the side. “He’s said to be the greatest swordsman in the seven kingdoms.”

Riddick chuckles. “I’ve been hearing similar words about men like him my whole life. They’re all ghosts now.” 

“You really expect to beat me with those things?” The  _ Kingslayer _ calls out once he’s emptied his cup. He swings the sword around a few times, pretty boy’s obviously comfortable with blades. Still wont be enough to save his dumb ass of course. 

“What, these?” Riddick asks innocently, finding this whole situation amusing. “These are just for show. I can beat you without them.” He flips the blades a few times. “Ready to dance, pretty boy? Or do you need more time?”

Jaime Lannister actually grins back, “I’m going to make you regret those words.” Pretty boy widens his stance, sword arm raised back to keep the blade leveled at Riddick’s face. He shuffles around, feinting left before lunging forwards, his sword angling down to slice across Riddick’s middle. The knight is fast but Riddick had been sparring with Khan for years now. He got used to a much faster opponent than a normal human. He easily blocks the sword with his saber claw and gives it an extra push, throwing pretty boy off balance. 

Pretty boy grunts as he struggles to keep his balance, his jaw clenched so tightly Riddick wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cracked a tooth. His footwork is the only thing that keeps the knight from going arse over tea kettle. Lannister is quick to learn because he doesn’t charge again, he hesitates. 

“Shitting yourself already?” Riddick mocks and begins to stalk the man. “I thought you were going to make me regret my words.” He feigns a jab. 

Jaime startles but scoffs, “Oh I’m just getting warmed up.” He circles towards the right as he raises his elbow back. He eyeballs the curved blades warily. He’d probably thought his little sword would have shattered them. Another feint and the blond aims his strike on the opposite side, it’s obvious he’s trying to find Riddick’s weak side. Too bad for the knight that he’s got no such thing.

Riddick decides to let him get close this time, really close, before pulling one of Khan’s favorite moves. He twists his body and with the right footwork he slides behind the other man, just for fun he smacks him on the ass. He knows all too well how frustrating and confusing that move can be, Khan did it to him often enough.

Laughter rings around their audience and the Kingslayer spins around looking furious. His face bright red while he rights himself. The next attack is a bit more sloppy, what little strength he has is quickly leaving him. It must be sheer stubbornness that’s keeping him moving. 

Riddick blocks the attack and a few more wild, desperate ones that follow. He sighs and glances at the people around them. “I think this is enough,” he says and easily moves inside the man’s guard. “Say goodnight.” He pulls his punch back a bit but it’s still more than enough. The knight's eyes roll back and he’s out cold.

* * *

  
  


Peter looks down at the armor and weapons that have been brought for them to pick from. He doesn’t think he’ll be using any of them during the battle, some of the leathers and furs will make for a good change of clothes though. Once they’re alone again the alpha turns to Riddick. “You might have just been playing around with the Lannister but I’ll cherish the way he just hit the ground at the end for a long time.” He wishes they could go with Robb’s first idea of putting Jaime’s head on a pike. 

Riddick picks up a piece of armor and then tosses it back before looking at him. “He needed some humiliation but I’m glad you enjoyed the ending.” He studies Peter in silence for a moment. “I get the feeling you would’ve done worse. What is it about those girls that gets your hackles up? I’ve seen how you react every time someone mentions them.”

Peter harumps. He tries not to empathise too much with the Starks but it’s practically impossible. Stiles would have just known, there wouldn’t have been a need to explain. He’s not sure he wants to pick at this wound even further but maybe it’ll help Riddick understand why he’s already so committed. “I have… had a daughter of my own.” Malia really is his one regret, the one person from his past he still thinks about and genuinely feels remorse. “I wasn’t there for her when I should have been.” 

Riddick nods. “I have no personal experience with family, but I can understand how it can eat a man from the inside when you lose them. We’ll get those girls back.” He seems like he wants to say more but instead presses his lips firmly together.

Peter changes the subject while he can. They’ve got a battle to get ready for anway. A stray thought occurs to him. “You gonna take a horse?” The Stark army was mostly mounted, tonight's attack would flank and smash the Lannister troops at Riverrun. 

Riddick crosses his arms. “Never been on a horse. Never even saw one before coming here,” he says. 

Peter opens his mouth then snaps it shut. He considers the problem, they only have a few hours until they march out. “I can teach you the basics. At least enough so that you can blend in… I know you could probably keep up on foot but I’ll be fully shifted for this.” He’d be spending his time making sure Lord Stark didn’t get skewered. 

Riddick purses his lips, it's obvious he doesn’t like the idea of riding. “I’d fight better if I didn’t have to control an animal that doesn’t have any killer instincts of its own. It has nothing to do with me learning to ride one, that seems easy enough.” 

“You'd be surprised, a good war horse won't hesitate to trample the enemy.” Peter smirks a little. Horses can be vicious little jerks. “At least consider familiarizing yourself with one. We’ll be travelling very long distances, possibly weeks on horseback. Saddles sores are a thing.” 

Riddick is probably glaring under his goggles but he nods. “I’ll ride the damn thing to battle, don’t expect me to stay on it to fight though.” 

Peter chuffs. “I wouldn't have expected you to actually fight on one. Not your style.” He smiles mischievously, “If you want to get it out of the way tough, let's go find you a mount. For all we know, you’ll spook the darn things enough that you’ll have to hoof it anyway.” He smirks as he grabs a large furred cape for when he’d need to shift. 

Riddick raises an eyebrow. “Most beasts like me. It’s an animal thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! A big thank you to all who left us comments/kudos. We hope you're enjoying our story so far. Comments, suggestions are always welcome :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_ Then…  _

_ “You have others with you and you are trying to help them,” Khan says. “We can help you with that.” _

_ Rakharo nods. “Yes, lost men help me,” he says and laughs. “Why not?” _

_ Now…  _

  
  


Khan pulls his horse back to fall in next to Stiles, leaving Rakharo to take the lead as they approach the camp. He glances at the werewolf who now seems much more confident on the horse than he did yesterday. “Seems like you two are starting to get along,” he says casually. Both the horse’s initial reaction and Stiles’ grimances had been amusing to both Khan and Rakharo. 

Stiles pats the horse’s mane as he beams at Khan. “Oh ya, we’re best buds now.” The horse shakes its head a little. “See, no problems here.” The wolf still seems uncomfortable despite his words. 

Khan smiles. “Relax, if the horse senses you fear it, it’ll fear you. You don’t have to grip its sides so tightly.” He looks ahead. “All these people do is ride, they even measure their manhood by how well they do it, we’ll be spending a lot of time riding.” 

“Okay, so maybe I’m still worried this thing will decide it doesn’t like me and humiliate me in front of people who put respect and horse riding on the same scale.” Stiles maneuvers his horse closer to Khan’s. “There’s another problem we didn’t get to talk about and I’m running out of days…” The younger man bites his lip while looking ahead. 

Khan raises an eyebrow, he is surprised to hear a change in the other’s heart rate for the first time since they met. It’s slight, and only lasts a moment but it's enough to worry him a bit. “Do we need to ask for a moment alone for this?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, it’s just well. In a few days, 5 to be exact. I’m sorta…” A red tinge appears on the werewolf’s ears, it’s not sunburn either. “I’m gonna be stuck in my shift for 24 hours,” the words are rushed out and whispered, “and I’m gonna be ravenous  _ in all sense of the word…  _ I’ve never had a shift day without Peter either.” 

Khan frowns, this could be an issue. “We’ll have to find a way to hide your appearance from others or, since it's only for a day, find an excuse to take off for 24 hours. We’ll probably need to hunt for you too…” it dawns on him then. “When you say ravenous in every sense of the word...you mean…” 

The other man chuckles and comically wiggles his eyebrows at Khan. “Yup, that’s exactly what I mean.” 

Khan knows that his expression is probably one of alarm and he can feel his cheeks burning up. “I see,” he clears his throat. “How well can you control it?” 

“I’m not gonna go around humping your leg if that’s what you're worried about.” Stiles eyes Khan curiously. “I can handle it myself, I’m more worried about freaking everyone out and generally being a hangry asshole for a day.” 

Khan feels his cheeks burning even more and looks away, pressing his lips together. They are nearly in shouting distance from the camp and that’s exactly what their guide does. Khan glances back at Stiles. “For the sake of diplomacy then I think the best option is to excuse ourselves for that day.  _ Hangry  _ might not go over well with them.” 

Stiles shrugs, “Keeping this shit a secret generally doesn’t end well, just saying. We got time, and I mean, we’re about to meet someone who’s immune to fire and has actual baby dragons. Maybe the werewolf thing won't seem so far out, you know?” By the end the beta is more babbling than anything and he quiets down looking a bit sheepish. 

“Point,” Khan says. “Lets see how we do first, we can decide later, five days should be enough to know what we’re dealing with.”

There’s movement at the camp as people come out from whatever shadow they were able to shelter under to meet Rakharo. The Dothraki kicks his horse into a trot and Khan lets him gain some distance before doing the same. 

Stiles’ horse takes a little longer to listen to it’s rider and the werewolf mutters a few curses. Though once he’s back up next to Khan, the other man is looking ahead with confidence. He turns to give Khan a quick wink, “Show time.” 

Rakharo is speaking rapidly to Daenerys and waving his arm in their direction. From what Khan can understand the man is detailing the circumstances of their meeting to her and even gives them credit for saving his life.

Daenerys looks up as Khan and Stiles stop a few feet behind her favorite rider. She pats the man’s horse then moves to meet them. “My Bloodrider tells me you saved his life, for that you have my gratitude.” She opens her mouth to speak further but the Knight in her group hurries over. 

“Khaleesi,” The man’s whisper is almost reproachful. “You should be wary of giving your thanks to strangers, no matter their deeds.” He eyes Khan carefully before doing the same with Stiles as they dismount.

Khan strokes his horse's neck before he turns his attention to the man. “You think giving someone thanks for their deeds amounts to trust?” he says, keeping his voice even. “She doesn’t seem so naive to me. Civility can take a ruler far when coupled with wisdom.” 

The girl, who had looked diminished by the Knight’s words, stands straighter. “I agree,” she eyes the Knight. “Ser Jorah meant no harm,” she goes on, giving them an apologetic look. “He’s just very protective of me. I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen...and you are?” Their lack of recognition catches her off guard.

Khan inclines his head slightly. “My name is Khan Noonien Singh, my companion’s name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. It is a pleasure to meet you, Daenerys Stormborn.” 

Stiles comes to stand next to him, he does a little awkward half bow. “Stiles is fine though.” He adds quickly.

Ser Jorah’s scowl deepens. “Those are not Westerosy names, where do you hail from that you’ve found yourselves in the Red Waste?” The knight stands a little taller, arm resting  _ casually _ on the hilt of his sword.

Khan is amused by the man, it is so clear he is head over heels for the girl. “So far, we haven’t met anyone who knows our homeland. We were traveling unknown seas, looking for distant shores when a storm sank our ship. Stiles and I washed up ashore, we never found the rest of our crew.” 

“We were starting to give up when we ran into Rakharo,” Stiles joins Khan’s story smoothly, his heart doesn’t blip once as he lies. “We were just happy to see some friendly faces, well, for the most part.” The werewolf grins at the knight. 

Daenerys hesitates. “I would offer you food and water but…” she looks behind her nervously, her people look miserable and she’s aware of that fact.

“That’s actually something we can help with.” The other man bounces on his heels before circling back to the extra horses they’d brought with them. “We met Rakharo at a pond, loaded up on water and found some small game along the way.” He presses his lips into an apologetic smile. “It’s not much but there’s enough to go around for a day or so.”

“They good,” Rakharo chimes in. “ride off, come with food, many times.” He beams at them.

Khan nods at the compliment and looks at Daenerys. “We will share what we have, the horses as well.”

“That’s very generous,” Jorah has found his tongue again and while his suspicion is still very obvious, he’s at least more civil in his tone. “Though I wonder what it is you expect we can give you in return.” He eyes the girl protectively. 

“We expect nothing from you,” Khan begins but Stiles jumps in.

“I don’t like what you’re implying, ser!” The werewolf comes marching back with a load of water skins slung over his shoulder. “Where I’m from, people help each other ‘cause it’s the right thing to do. Here you go ma’am.” Stiles lays the skins on the ground gently before spinning back towards Khan in a huff. 

Khan is amused by Stiles’ over the top reaction but manages to keep a straight face. He looks calmly at Daenerys. “We are looking for a way home, nothing more, and I sense that so are you. We can do it in each other's company or we can part ways here.”

Daenerys doesn’t even look at Jorah, though Khan can hear her heart hammering inside her chest. She’s still not confident enough to make choices on her own. “I welcome your company,” she says. 

* * *

Stiles sighs, he leans back on one of the large boulders offering the Kallassar some shade. The sun is low on the horizon and his belly is full, it’s oddly peaceful. Probably because everyone is still giving them an extra wide berth, they mostly stare curiously from a distance. “Ser Jorah is telling Daenerys she shouldn’t be so easy to trust us… again.” He grumbles a little petulantly. It’s like having a less subtle Oddo around. 

Khan stretches his legs out then closes his eyes. “Can you blame him? I wouldn’t trust us either,” he says and grins. 

“Well, that’s besides the point.” Stiles laughs quietly. He likes Khan’s dry sense of humour. “I don’t blame the guy, I just know he’s being overprotective for the sort of reason that’ll be hard for us to break through.” He taps his nose meaningfully, “Another thing I wish I didn’t have to know about people. Though it’s admittedly handy in some situations.” 

Khan opens one eye, he smirks. “I don’t need your nose to know that. It’s painfully obvious.” He sits up and looks at Stiles. “I don’t think his approval will matter much, once the girl makes up her mind about us.” 

Stiles snorts. “Oh yeah, that girl is stubborn.” He leans forward a bit. “At least so far she seems to like us, I think you got her attention with the whole civility thing.” He smirks ruefully. It’s an odd turn of events that he hadn’t even considered.

Khan blinks and looks away. “That was not my intention.” It’s a little funny how one of history's most badass augments gets flustered by Stiles’ teasing. 

“Oh I know that, I’m just saying the nose knows.” He sighs internally, he’s not trying to make the guy uncomfortable so he reigns it in a bit for a more professional mindset. “I’m not thrilled either you know, I caught her attention too. So, we should probably try to nip that in the bud quickly.” 

Khan’s eyes narrow. “We’ll need to nip that in the bud in general. Jorah might be right, the girl is too eager to...trust. If she is to be a ruler she’ll need to be more guarded, even with those closest to her.” 

Stiles nods, the guy’s not wrong. First they have to get out of this desert before the Kalassar dies of exposure. He wonders how long they could end up waiting here for the other riders and considers going after them too but scraps it instantly. The sooner they get Daenerys to trust them the better. That means they’ll need a reason to stay at her side but he’s really uncomfortable with the idea of leading her on. Khan doesn’t seem like the type who would play that angle either, which is reassuring to know about the person he’s teaming up with. He gets to his feet with a frown at the things he overhears; the girl’s dragons’ still aren’t eating the meat she offers them. 

“You know what, I think I’ve got a plan.” He spins around, quickly making his way next to Khan. “We might be here for days, if we make it a pattern of going out every night for food and water.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “It won't look so weird if I have to be out of sight for a whole day and night. We just come back with something really big if we can. And we talk about our husbands as much as possible in front of well, everyone, but mostly when Jorah or Danny can hear it. No room for misunderstandings here.” He looks towards the downtrodden girl in the distance. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not fireproof.” 

Khan chuckles. “I can take some heat but I doubt I can walk out of a pyre.” He looks at Stiles intently, his blue green eyes almost hyper focused on every little detail at once. “Hunting will get us in everyone’s good graces and I can see how it would help with your situation as well.” He makes a face. “How would we bring our husbands into the conversation though?”

Stiles grins, he’d worried he would have to sell his plan a bit more. “Well, I’m not asking for dickpicks or anything.” He laughs at the red tinge that flashes across the augments face for a fraction of a second. He takes pity on the man and gets to the point instead. “They think we know each other well, on the same crew sailing into the unknown and everything. It’s normal that we’d talk to each other about the people in our lives. These people seem pretty open minded, I mean Rakharo was  _ very _ happily greeted by two women when we got back.” He shrugs then laughs mischievously. “What colour do you think Jorah would turn if we asked him if he was the Khaleessi’s  _ special _ knight?” 

Khan’s eyebrows go up. “You’re worse than Riddick,” he says, a smile threatening to break on his lips. “I suppose he’ll be at least as red as I was? I’m not accustomed to situations like these, so I’ll follow your lead.” 

“I’m spending too much time with Dax.” Stiles mutters to himself. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it P.G., promise.” He pats the man on the shoulder then makes his way towards the small group of Dotharaki milling around Daenerys. He waves his hand over his shoulder for Khan to follow him. 

He coughs politely as they make their way through to get the girl’s attention. “Uh? Ma’am, Daenerys?” 

Daenerys looks up at the sound of her name, her eyes dart over them and then at the group around her. She excuses herself in Dothraki before she approaches them with a shy smile. “I didn’t thank you properly for your generosity,” she says, waving a hand over her fed and much more cheerful people. “I hope I can repay you one day.” 

Stiles gives her an honest smile, a little nostalgia seeps in. She reminds him of Scott in a way, naive and kind with too many responsibilities on her shoulders. Along with a stubborn will power to see it all through. “Honestly, just letting us stick around is thanks enough.” He scratches the back of his head like he’s embarrassed. “Like we told your man before, our ship went down with everything we have and we’re not familiar with this place or it’s people.” He looks back towards Khan. “We’ve been talking and well, we’re hoping you would be open to letting us travel with you. We can hunt every night, we wouldn’t be a burden or anything.” 

“I think you have already proven that,” she says. “Though our company seems a poor trade for what you offer, I would be glad to have you with me.” She glances at Khan and back to Stiles. “Are you lords where you come from? Forgive the abruptness of my question but you don’t seem like commoners.”

Stiles laughs despite himself. “I’m not-”

“We’re scholars,” Khan cuts in. “Neither nobles or commoners. We do have some sway where we come from.”

Stiles shuts his mouth with a click. In retrospect, while his area of expertise is in security; his basic education before and at Starfleet would likely be enough to qualify him as a scholar in this world. He does his best to maintain a pleasant smile while he plays his next hand. “Which reminds me, your dragons, have you considered cooking their meat?” 

Daenerys’ mouth shapes into a surprised O. “I have not!” she exclaims. “Do you think that would work?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead she swings around and says something to one of the women. The woman jumps to her feet and goes to the dragon cages to retrieve Daenerys’ favorite black. Daenerys walks to the open fire and snaches a peace of still sizzling meat from it.

“Good thinking with the Dragons,” Khan leans close enough to whisper.

He shrugs though his smile gets a little wider. “I just figured, that’s how dragons kill, right? They flambe their food but these guys don’t have a big momma who’s pre roasting the kills.” It just made sense to him, “I’ve done lots of hunts with Peter, but we still cook our food cause it tastes better that way.” 

Khan’s mouth curves up. “Like I said, good thinking.”

A round of cheers takes their attention back to Daenerys. She looks up and beams at them just as the baby dragon swallows a mouthful of cooked meat. Stiles can’t help but grin back at the girl’s joy, they’re definitely making good progress towards having her trust. Daenerys speaks to the same woman again and the other two dragons are brought out. The Khalasar can’t get enough of feeding the little guys.

* * *

Stiles sits at the very top of the tallest bolder around their little camp. Four days have past since they joined Danny’s group, four long days with next to nothing to do. His nightly hunts with Khan bring him a few hours to at least think of something other than tomorrow’s shift. The Khalasar are a bit warmer to their presence though still cautious despite Rakharro’s best effort to talk them up. At least his plan to ease the tension with Jorah and neuter the  _ interest _ from Daenerys had worked like a charm. 

Jorah only gives them odd looks now, like he’s not sure what to make of them. He’d even offered to accompany Khan and Stiles on a hunt, thankfully Khan had shut the knight down with some quick and simple logic; who would guard the Khaleesi. As for Deanerys, from everything he and Khan had pieced together from various conversations, that young woman had been through a hell of a lot. That she was still kind and open to strangers was surprising, Stiles’ hoped it meant good things for their mission. 

He huffs, curling his arms tighter around his legs. The sun is starting to set, for once the sight isn’t as welcome as it would otherwise be. When the dawn comes tomorrow, Stiles and Khan will have to be far from the camp, he still hasn’t gotten around to telling Danny about his furry little problem. 

He turns his head when Khan comes to sit at his side. “Almost the big day.” Stiles mutters dejectedly with his chin resting on his knees. 

Khan crosses his legs and looks at the sunset. “Anything I can do?” he asks gently. 

“Make sure I don’t go crazy and kill everyone?” He’s trying to sound like he’s only joking but fails miserably. Stiles tilts his head towards the augment, Khan has a certain presence about him that’s almost like an Alpha’s at times. He’s just not sure what to expect. “Can you be really…” Stiles face tinges red and turns back to the horizon. “How authoritative can you be?” 

Khan turns to look at him with a slight frown. “Does Emperor level of authority work for you? Or did you have something else in mind?” he asks, sounding mildly confused. 

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, his brain catching up to the way his words had sounded. He coughs actually embarrassed. “Wow, Emperor uh? Damn, just a scholar my ass.” He chortles for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I don’t have my Alpha, who’s also my anchor, to ground me. I might need someone who can stand their ground and remind me of my humanity.” He grimaces at the way it makes him sound like some kind of feral beast. “It’s not like I expect you to take on all of Peter’s  _ duties _ .” He rolls his eyes at himself for sounding like such a tool. 

“Ah, so I can stop you from humping my leg then?” Khan deadpans. 

The werewolf’s head spins so fast he nearly rolls over, he looks at the augment with a mortified expression before he realizes the man had made a joke. He shakes his head with a wry laugh. “Well, you could try.” 

Stiles turns to look around whistefully, and he catches something just in the corner of his peripheral. His next comment halts in his throat, he turns his head back to make sure it’s not his imagination. He gives Khan’s shoulder a tap while he gets to his feet, if he squints just right he can just barely make out a silhouette. 

“The rider?” Khan asks. He twists his body to look back, his eyes also narrowing in the direction Stiles’ looking at. 

“I think so,” Stiles blows out a relieved breath. “Here’s hoping anyway, c’mon, let’s go give Danny a head’s up.” He turns to make the slow trek down the rock. Sure, he and Khan could easily make the jump from here but that would be a bit hard to explain if they were seen.

“Stiles,” Khan calls him. The Augment stands and brushes dust off his clothes before looking at him. "I kept eighty four bloodthirsty Augments in check and I have some personal experience with control issues." He grins. "I'm confident I can help you through one night of bloodlust." He closes the distance between them and locks eyes with him. “And if all else fails…” his eyes narrow. “I’ll just hump you.”

Stiles eyebrows shoot up so high, he’s sure they’ve disappeared in his hairline. “Um. That’s.” He stutters, his stupid brain supplies a mental picture and he nopes it quickly. “That’s uh, not.” He looks up at Khan and the augment is just barely grinning. “You’re terrible.” Stiles shakes his head realizing that Khan had been pulling his leg with that last one. “Thanks Khan. I hope it doesn’t come to that but I appreciate the offer.” 

He smiles a bit awkwardly, it eases his worries that Khan is able to relate to him on some level and is starting to loosen up enough to joke around. “Here’s hoping it’s Kovarro with some good news.” As soon as their feet touch the ground, Stiles whistles loudly. “Ser Jorah!” He sees the man a few feet away polishing his sword. “We’ve spotted someone heading this way.” 

The knight looks up with his usual scowl. He’s warmed up to them over the last few days but Stiles is beginning to think that bitchface is just this guy’s neutral. “From which direction?” Jorah asks quickly, putting his things away before coming to meet Khan and Stiles half way.

“Uh, east I think?” Stiles looks to Khan for confirmation. 

“East is right,” Khan says.

Jorah looks relieved. “It should be Kovarro in that case.” The older blond waves to Rakharo and Aggo, the Dothraki bloodriders. His words are too quick for Stiles to catch but since the men go fetch their horses, he can take a guess. “I’ll go tell the Khaleesi.” He gives them a curt nod before marching off.

“Cheerful guy ain’t he?” Stiles elbows Khan with a snicker. 

Khan snorts. “At least he no longer looks at us like he’d like to stick that sword in our guts.” 

“That’s only because he doesn’t see us as  _ romantic _ rivals anymore.” Stiles smirks widely. “I do get the impression that he’s not super kosher with the idea that our husbands are well... dudes.” Another chuckle follows the memory of that conversion. 

Khan shakes his head. “It wasn’t my best moment either,” he mumbles. 

“Oh come on,” Stiles slings an arm casually over Khan’s shoulders. “Give yourself more credit than that. You did fine, I don’t expect you to wax poetic about Riddick 24/7. I leave the Shakespeare to Peter. The important part is that they understand that we’re all about the D.” He smiles winningly. 

Khan looks at him from the corner of his eye. “All about the D?” he asks and tilts his head with an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “I think I  _ do  _ remember reading that line in one of Shakespeare’s plays.” 

Stiles chuckles at the sarcasm. “Ah see, I knew you’d get it.”

Khan smiles briefly and looks ahead. The rider is now close enough to see him clearly. “Let's go see what’s going on,” he says and looks back at Stiles. “How soon will we have to leave before your...shift?”

“After zero hundred… ” Stiles answers by rote only to realize they’ve got no actual idea how the time measures up here. “I mean, I guess in the middle of the night would be best. Shifts usually start around 0 five hundred so…” He shrugs as he joins Khan in his walk to investigate the incoming rider. 

The khalasar is gathered behind Daenerys and Jorah watching the three figures in the distance come to focus. Excited whispers start to spread around the dothraki people while Khan and Stiles make their way through. 

“That’s a fresh horse he’s on,” Khan comments.

The rider has a big smile on his face as he dismounts and speaks with Daenerys. He walks up to the girl holding up two water skins and pointing at the direction he came from.

Khan leans closer to Stiles. “I think he’s saying that he found a city that’s willing to accept them.” 

“That’s good.” Stiles mutters, “I hope anyway.” He does the math in his head quickly. “At least 3 days out, right?”

“Sounds about right,” Khan says. “As for the city, it could be good or it could be bad. There are no free meals, in any world.” 

Stiles nods his agreement, Daenerys has turned to Jorah. “What do you know of this place?” She doesn’t sound as happy as he’d expect, showing that she does have some caution.

Jorah’s answer is just as solemn as usual. “Only that the desert around their walls is called the Garden of Bones.” The knight pauses, keeping the girl's attention on himself. “Every time the Qarthians shut their gates on a traveller, the garden grows.” 

“That’s messed up.” Stiles blurts out quietly and gives Khan a side glance, the man looks bored. Which probably means he’s thinking a mile a minute, it’s an expression Stiles sees often on Peter. By the sounds of it, they’re gonna have to do some sweet talking to make sure they don’t add to that creepy garden. 

“Yes, the right opportunities are usually messed up morally,” Khan says. “When Kovarro went to this city he probably ran his mouth about how desperate their situation is and about the girl’s dragons. If I understood what was said correctly, they want to meet the mother of dragons.” He looks at Stiles and smirks. “We need to present them with a queen not a beggar.” 

“I’m guessing you already have a plan?” Stiles whispers lowly, he wishes he could use his telepathy with Khan but all of his mental pokes were met with what felt like a natural shield wall. At least the augments hearing is good enough to offer a degree of secrecy. 

Khan shrugs. “Power is like shadow theatre, you just need to know how to position the light and create the right illusions. How extra sensitive will your senses be tonight?” 

“Once I’m shifted, I can double a lot of the usual if I can get enough focus.” That’ll be the worse part for him, he’ll have to manage everything on his own. “You’ll probably have to keep me on task for the rest of tonight too. I’m all…” He can’t grasp the right word. “Anyway, that’s a yes on the great wolfy senses for the next 24 hours.”

“What if I keep you focused on some big game hunt?” There’s a playful glint in Khan’s eyes. 

Stiles snorts out a laugh. He likes this new, more casual side of the man. It’s not a bad idea, hunting something large for Danny’s people would serve several of their current goals. He smirks. “You asking me out on a date, Khan?”

Khan chuckles. “I guess I am. I promise to be a gentleman.” 

“Dinner first!” Stiles laughs away some of the tension he’d been holding onto. His laugh draws attention however.

“I don’t believe the situation calls for laughter.” Ser Jorah grumbles, blond eyebrows glare at Stiles.

“Laughter is the best medicine?” Stiles blurts out without thought then cringes in mortification.

Danny steps closer. “And will you share the cause of your amusement with us?” she asks, not unkindly. 

Stiles opens his mouth but nothing comes out, his brain has gone completely blank. He blinks, that hadn’t actually happened to him in years. He turns to Khan with a wide eyed  _ help me _ look. 

Khan crosses his arms and pins Jorah with a hard stare before turning a softer gaze to Danny. “I’m to blame, Khaleesi, I pointed out to my companion that Qarth can squeeze her thighs shut all she wants, our bones won’t be erected at her feet. May we speak with you in private for a moment?” 

Stiles presses his lips shut firmly, it’s only years of military training that allows him to keep a straight face. Jorah seems to be struggling as well, he looks like a dog chewing on a taffy. No one is able to hold it in however when Rakharo, helpful guy that he is, decides to translate Khan’s colourful statement for the rest of the khalasar. 

Danny laughs with her people and looks at them fondly. “You may have a private audience,” she says teasingly then gestures for them to follow her to her personal rock shelter. Jorah doesn’t even ask, he simply follows at Danny’s heels. 

“How is it, that you go from blushing to this, in like a week?” Stiles whispers while they follow along, his smile pulls wider and he snickers. 

“Necessity?” Khan says, blushing slightly. “I was kind of channeling Riddick. That’s something that he would say...only more crudely.”

Stiles watches the little flashes of  _ feelings _ on the other man’s face. He reaches out to squeeze Khan’s shoulder as they reach Danny’s rock. “We’ll get back to them, I know it.” 

They wait for the girl to seat herself, as usual Jorah is unwavering in his role as the Khaleesi’s shadow. Daenerys waves them over with a smile, her black dragon becoming a familiar sight wrapped around her neck. 

Khan sits first, folding himself gracefully onto the ground while Stiles just thuds down on the man’s left.

“Khaleesi, are we to assume you plan to go to this Qarth?” Khan asks.

Danny glances at Jorah before she speaks. “We’ve been wandering in the red waste for days. I see no other option.”

Khan nods thoughtfully. “As we have mentioned before, Stiles and I are scholars. I personally have some experience with court politics and what people in power respect most is power...even the illusion of it can take someone far, if done right. Right now, Khaleesi, you have nothing. You are for all intents and purposes a beggar.”

Jorah takes a step forward and puffs up his chest. “She is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, rightful heir to the Iron Throne.”

“Yes, yes,” Khan cuts him off dismissively. “Pretty titles and meaningless. Who sits on the Iron Throne now?”

“The usurper, Robert Baratheon,” Danny says, she at least seems willing to listen.

“Then make no mistake, Khaleesi, that throne is his until he dies or someone usurpes him. The people don’t care who’s ass sits on the throne unless they have something to gain from it as well.” He smiles slightly. “But do hold on to that arrogance, you’ll need it, just don’t buy into your own illusions.” His eyes shift to the dragon wrapped around her neck for a moment. “The title you need to enforce now, however, is Mother of Dragons. Make it a title that people will respect, or at least plant the seeds of fear and doubt in their minds. That cannot happen if you go to this city’s gates begging them to save you.”

Danny strokes her dragon’s head thoughtfully as she looks down on Khan. Even Jorah seems to consider Khan’s words, at least his hand rests more lightly on his sword now. 

“What do you suggest I do?” Danny finally asks.

“Take a day and a night,” Khan says. “Make yourself and your Khalasar more presentable. You must show no weakness to those people. You don’t need them, you are the Mother of Dragons, you’re just gracing them with a visit before you move on to take back the Iron Throne.”

Danny’s eyes shine with pride as she basks in the image Khan is painting for her. “It is true that our situation now isn’t as dire as it was when I sent out my Bloodriders...we owe that mostly to you two. A day and a night?”

Khan glances at Stiles. “We’ve been talking. While you take a day and a night to rest, mend your clothes, washup,” he put some emphasis on the last word. “Stiles and I will go out to hunt and refill as many waterskins as we can carry. When we’re done, you’ll in truth have no need of Qarth’s help.”

Jorah heaves a heavy sigh, Stiles is glad to see the man can see the sense in Khan’s words. “Their plan is sound Khaleesi. I would rather see you enter a city like Qarth with an advantage.” He squints in thought, studying Stiles and Khan for a moment. “Though I would feel better if you took at least one more man with you.”

Stiles shakes his head casually. “We’ve discussed this before Jorah. Khan and I have experience together, we don’t have the time to teach someone else as we go.” He lifts a hand to Deanerys who’s no doubt about to object in defense of her men. “I’m not casting doubts on your Bloodriders or Ser Jorah, Khaleesi. Our methods are simply different.”

“Very well,” Daenerys says reluctantly. “We will try to make ourselves more presentable and trust you to provide us with the means to stay so. I will of course repay you as soon as I’m able.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t cash on Khaleesi. If you really want to take back this Iron Throne, that’s a habit you’ll need to reconsider. Work with what you have, not what you wish you had.” He smiles gently. “We already told you, we’re only interested in finding a way home. But I wouldn’t feel right going back if it means leaving you and yours to die when I could have helped. You want to thank us? Take our advice seriously.”

Daenerys seems torn between being insulted or agreeing, she chooses the latter and inclines her head gracefully, much like Khan usually did around her. “I will always...consider your advice,” she says with a smile. 

“That’s all we ask.” He answers before getting back up slowly. “We’ll be heading out in the middle of night, in two days we’ll return regardless of what we’ve been able to catch.” Stiles glances down to his own clothes with pursed lips, a quick side look to Khan reveals much the same wear and tear on the other man. “We’ll take some time to clean up on the way back to camp.” He hopes they can find another large pond, sand baths will only get you so far. “I don’t suppose there’s some extra clothes lying around?” 

Daenerys seems surprised. “I’m sure we can find something,” she says and glances at Jorah. The man calls over a couple of the women and speaks to them briefly, gesturing at Khan and Stiles as he does, the women nod and head for their supplies.

Khan rises smoothly to his feet and dusts off his pants. He makes a face and sighs. “I suppose we should fit in more,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“That’s sort of the idea.” Stiles mumbles back. He wishes Q had waited just a few more minutes before showing up, that way he’d had least been dressed in his Bajoran clothes. “I’m pretty sure these pants are gonna disintegrate soon…” He looks up as the Dothraki women come back with various pieces of leather and cloth.

Khan turns and picks up one of the garments the women are holding, he glances at Stiles from the corner of his eye and puts it back. He picks another and though he looks a bit disgusted he nods and begins to unlace his pants. 

Stiles eyes the pile as well, the trousers are all pretty generic so he grabs a pair that look about the right size before he starts to strip alongside Khan. A little cough catches his attention while he’s mid strip. He looks up to see Jorah scowling a little, Daenerys is turning pink. The werewolf pretends not to notice while he represses a chuckle. The Dothraki don’t appear to even take notice, instead one of the women eyes Khan critically before she hands the other man a sleeveless hide shirt. Another woman, one of the few besides Danny who doesn’t look native to the Khalassar, hands Stiles something that amounts to a leather tank top. 

Khan pulls on the hide shirt and looks over at Stiles. “These are more comfortable than I thought they would be,” he comments as the woman reaches out to fix the laces for him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her. 

Stiles figures Khan is used to this sort of treatment, he had said something about being an emperor at some point. He decides to go with the other’s lead and lets the girl at his side manhandle him into his own  _ shirt _ . The leather is worn and supple however, it feels surprisingly good against his skin. “Quality craftsmanship pays off.” He nods his head in thanks. “These will be much more suited for hunts, thank you Khaleesi.” 

Cheeks still burning the girl nods. “It’s- It’s the least I could do,” she says and stands. “I should go make preparations. Good luck with your hunting.” She hurries off, the other non-Dothraki girl follows after her snickering. 

Ser Jorah looks torn between following his Khaleesi or glaring at Khan and Stiles as they make minor adjustments to their new attire. The silence drags out a little longer and the knight keeps his comments to himself before turning about and leaving them.

Stiles snorts a little. “That guy needs to lighten up a bit.” He holds his arms out. “So, how do I look?” 

Khan looks at him. “Like a proper Dothraki. You smell like one too.” He smirks. 

“When in Rome, right?” Stiles returns the smirk. “C’mon  _ emperor _ , we need to gather all the empty water skins.”

Khan raises an eyebrow. “That’s Your Imperial Majesty to you,” he deadpans and heads to where they keep the waterskins. 

Stiles follows with a silent shake of his head and a grin. At least Khan isn’t boring.

* * *

  
  


Stiles pats down his bed roll carefully once more. He tries not to let out another miserable sigh, Khan will probably try to strangle him in his sleep otherwise. The first few hours of his shift had been… rough. Not in the sense that he’d gone on some crazy murderous rampage. No, instead he’d been all around bitchy and horny, it was like being sixteen all over again. If it wasn’t for his healing factor, he’d probably have dick burn by now given the amount of times he’d gone to hide in the bushes. 

He looks over at Khan who’s volunteered to take the first shift. It’s only two hours, with another two after so the augment can get some rest himself. The rest of the night will be spent chasing down the herd of mountain goat-like animals they’d been tracking all afternoon. Just as Khan had predicted, a good hunt had indeed helped Stiles cope a bit better with his situation.

Stiles lays his head back gently over his folded arms, the red comet is finally gone and the sky is a clear blanket of stars. He misses being up there, he groans quietly. He misses Peter more than anything, just as expected the emptiness is a constant gnawing feeling in the back of his head. “Night Khan, see ya in two hours.” He whispers then closes his eyes as he forces himself to sleep. Not his favorite feeling in the world but it’s the only way he’ll get some shut eye. 

He’s asleep before he hears the response.

  
  


_ Stiles blinks up with frown. The stars he’d been staring at just a moment ago are gone. All he sees now is a dark stone ceiling. “What the-” his bedroll is gone, now it’s only cold stone at his back. The flickering firelight to his right is also wrong since they hadn’t made one.  _

_ He sits up slowly, he likens the room to something you’d see in a medieval castle. The details are hard to grasp though, everything looks out of focus. He tries to count the fingers on his right hand but he can barely make them out. “So I’m dreaming?” He whispers in the dark. _

_ “Stiles?” Peter’s voice shoots through every nerve in his body, it’s like a drink of water after weeks in the desert.  _

_ “Peter?” His voice cracks, a bed he hadn’t noticed comes into focus. Stiles knees almost buckle at the way those red eyes drink him in before he’s squeezed in a tight embrace.  _

_ Peter speaks with his mouth buried in Stiles’ hair. “This isn’t real.” The alpha mumbles quietly. _

_ Stiles tilts his head up, grabbing Peter’s chin to get his attention. “I think this is a lucid dream,” He licks his lips. “It’s shift night, spent the whole day without you and the minute I close my eyes, here I am.” He looks down at his hand again, flexing his fingers. “See, I’m here but I’m not.” _

_ The alpha looks at his own hand, his brow creasing. “I must have shifted in my sleep, the day hasn’t started yet.” Peter runs his hands over Stiles bare arms, he chuckles. “What are you wearing?” _

_ Stiles huffs, “You really care about what I’m wearing right now?” He raises an eyebrow. _

_ Peter answers him with a deep rumbling chuckle. “Not really,” he takes Stiles hand to guide him back to the bed.  _

_ The beta notices the multiple furs and large wooden frame. He smirks at the way Peter jerks the straps of his leather top and pats the clawed hands away. “I’m taking it on faith that this has something to do with our shift and that I’ve got two hours before it’s my turn for watch.” He tosses the leathers off with a grin. “We’re gonna have to multitask.”  _

_ Stiles throws his body against Peter’s naked frame. He wraps his arms tightly around his alpha as their lips touch. “I can do that.” Peter chuckles before rejoining their lips, this time the alpha deepens the kiss as much as their fangs allow. _

_ “I missed you so fucking much, and Q’s a dick, and I’m stuck in a fucking desert.” He breathes heavily and barely catches himself on the bed when Peter pushes him back. “Where the hell are you, Camelot?”  _

_ Peter chuckles as he drags his mouth along Stiles’ thigh. “A place called Westeros, in the Riverlands. Riverrun isn’t bad but it’s no Camelot.” He licks a long strip along the beta’s shaft that makes his toes curl.  _

_ “No shit!” He barely manages to keep talking. “You uh, wouldn’t happen to have a guy named Riddick with you?” Stiles’ head thuds back while Peter takes another excruciatingly slow lick of his cock.  _

_ “Really Stiles, asking about other men already?” The man’s hot breath ghosts over sensitive skin. The alpha quickly switches gears to flip Stiles over onto his hands and knees, the next time he takes a lick it makes the beta groan in anticipation. “Riddick’s with me, I assume that means Khan is with you.” _

_ Stiles’ head hangs down between his forearms as he wiggles his butt. “Stop being a tease, we don’t know how long this will last.” He doesn’t know how long he’ll last truthfully, it’s been so long that Stiles is pretty sure it won’t be very long. “Q dropped us in Essos, a place called the Red-” He takes a deep breath when he feels Peter start to press in but the moment he stops talking, the alpha stops. _

_ “You said we had to multitask.” Peter rumbles patiently. _

_ Stiles can’t help laughing a little, he had said that. “The red waste,” He moans in relief as Peter slowly moves forward. “In three days, we’ll be in a city called Qarth.” Hopefully anyway, “Oh and there’s this girl who has legit baby dragons.”  _

_ Peter’s hips stutter, “You found the mother of dragons?” There’s palpable relief mixed in with his pleased groan. “Q, gave us clues, we’re with a noble family, the Starks.” He growls when he’s finally fully seated inside Stiles. A firm hand travels across the beta’s back with just a hint of claws. “The Starks are at war with the ruling powers, we’ve been helping them win.” _

_ Stiles sighs deeply, he’s missed this. “I can’t believe you got a clue about us and we got squat from our end.” The rest of his complaint is cut off by Peter’s sharp pull back, it’s followed by another too slow instroke. “You just can’t help yourself can you.” He says it fondly while he leans back to speed things up. _

_ The hand on his back comes to rest on his shoulder and pulls him up, all of the beta’s weight is suddenly forced down quickly. Peter nuzzles the crook of Stiles neck softly despite the suddenly fast pace he’s decided to set. His free hand drifts across Stiles’ stomach.  _

_ Stiles can’t manage any coherent words after that. He feels dazed and right on the edge, his eyes close while his breathing comes out in short quick bursts. He drops his head on Peter’s shoulder, a long breathy moan is all he manages when he feels his stomach tighten.  _

_ Peter’s arms squeeze him against the alpha’s chest tightly while his hips piston harder and faster. It’s just as the familiar stretch begins that Stiles feels the coil snap, his howl is shortly joined by a louder hoarser one. _

  
  


The sound of gulping air fills Stiles’ ears, he shoots up quickly nearly hyperventilating. The beta looks around, confused for a moment while his vision adjusts. “Well, damn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody!   
> Here's another chapter! Hope you all enjoyed :) A giant thank you to everyone who commented, subbed, and kudo'd, thank you for feeding the authors!  
> As always, we welcome all comments and questions! Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

  
  


Riddick sits on a rock while he checks his blade, it’s sharp enough to do the job. He applies some grease over his scalp and begins to shave while watching over the somber camp. The news had come right after the battle. Wolf-boy took off in a hurry, the rest of the camp is quiet, despite their recent victory. 

“You know they’ve got a couple of barbers here.” Peter’s voice sounds from behind Riddick. The wolf’s hair is wet from the river, the large black fur cloak draped casually over his shoulders. He sits on the rock with a huff. “I really don’t like these Lannisters by the way.” The man grumbles with a scowl.

Riddick flicks the blade clean and continues shaving. “I like to do my own grooming,” he says and looks at the man next to him. “They do seem about as good as mercs. Cowards.” He sees movement from the corner of his eye and turns. Lady Stark is slowly walking through the camp, her spine straight, her eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon. She still inclines her head politely when the warriors bow to her but it's clear she’s barely keeping it together. For the first time since they met her, Riddick feels empathy for the woman. “Must be hard for her,” he says lowly and averts his eyes to focus on his task. 

Peter makes a rumbling sound of agreement in the back of his throat. “It is hard, losing family always is.” The way he speaks makes it obvious it’s from personal experience. “She’s handling it well enough, she’s a Lady, raised up to keep up that mask. It’s once she’s alone that we’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Riddick grunts. Playing Lording’s sitter was not something he was looking forward to. “The Wolf-boy took off to the woods as well. She’s heading in the same general direction. Think either or both might do something stupid?” 

“Depends on your definition of stupid.” Peter huffs and stands back up with a stretch. “My best guess, the boy will be wanting blood, not that I blame him. We just gotta make sure they don’t lose sight of the big picture. Revenge is tricky that way.” The man aims an odd little smile towards Riddick.

Riddick’s eyes once again go to Lady Stark, she’s heading out of the camp and into the woods. “I think mommy dearest there might surprise you with the wanting blood part,” he says and rans his hand over his scalp. Good enough, he cleans up with a wet cloth and stands up. “I learned a thing or two about revenge,” he grins. “It can also be sweet.” 

The wolf looks down at his hand, claws popping out briefly. He looks up with a sharp smirk. “Oh, I see why you’d think that, given my earlier statement. I’m not worried about the Lady jumping out of a window. I’m worried she’ll take matters into her own hands. Like she already has, you heard the same stories I did. Kidnapped Tyrion Lannister and put him to trial in the Vale, which failed and only escalated matters.” He begins to slowly walk in the Lady’s direction. “She arranged a marriage to Robb in order to secure his crossing without consulting him. See what I’m getting at?”

Riddick falls in next to the wolf. “Big heart, shit for brains,” he says. He wished Khan was there, he’d know how to handle these people. If his prospects of finding his Beastie weren’t tied to the success of Robb and his family, he would’ve been long gone by now. The universe had a bad habit of dragging him into fights that weren’t his. At least Peter was good enough company, he had a dark side to him that Riddick liked. Smart too, and better equipped in dealing with all the diplomatic crap than he was. 

Peter snorts back a laugh. “Well put. I’ve been unfortunate to have come across many who suffer from the same condition.” He slows his pace a little. “When I was at the river, I thought they were chopping wood in the forest. I’ve just realized it’s Robb,” He squints, a long suffering sigh follows. “It’s Robb… destroying his sword on a tree…”

“Because that’s always practical,” Riddick grumbles. “Is it as productive as you destroying that sapling?” He sees the Lady stumble a bit and catch herself on a tree. She is starting to break down. 

Peter looks embarrassed for the first time. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. I do understand his need to destroy something.” He stops. “Let’s stay here for now, give her some time to get it out in private,” Peter glances behind them quickly. “Might as well make sure they aren’t bothered while we’re at it.”

“Wasn’t planning on comforting her,” Riddick says sarcastically.

The Lady pauses in her weeping to look about in confusion, she finally hears the sounds of metal on wood and heads quickly in that direction.

“Are we getting closer now or staying here?” Riddick asks as he loses sight of the woman. 

Peter shakes his head. “I can still hear them,” the wolf tilts his head towards the forest. He snorts, “She’s giving him crap for wrecking his sword.” A moment of silence follows, the man's features turn serious before he breathes out a relieved sigh. “I think she actually learned from her mistakes, Robb wants to kill them all but she’s talking him down, reminding him about Sansa…” Finally he turns to Riddick with a satisfied expression. “She said, once they have the girls, then, they’ll kill them all.” A large grin spreads on his face. “They’re heading back now.”

“Offer to bite them again,” Riddick says. “Maybe speed things up.” He was beginning to wish last night’s battle had lasted longer, at least killing made him feel better. 

The older man clears his throat tactfully. “I will, but you have to prepare yourself for the fact that even if it all goes smoothly, we’ll have to spend at least a fortnight with the new wolves before we can think of leaving them on their own.” He looks at Riddick with a straight face. “I  _ know _ why you’re itching to speed things up, and truly I suspect I understand better than most would. Spend more time in the river if you must, we can even go hunting some Lannisters on our own. Some things can’t be rushed, Riddick.”

Riddick crosses his arms and grunts. Getting into it with the wolf now would probably be a bad idea. A trip to the river might be the better option. 

“We’ll see how they’re feeling once they reach us,’ Peter nods his head towards the woods as the Lady and Wolf Boy come back into view. “If they need more time, we’ll do a perimeter run. Maybe we’ll catch a few Lannisters trying to run home, get some of that excess energy out.” He pats Riddick on the shoulder firmly.

Riddick nods, then turns to watch mother and son as they approach. The two seem to have composed themselves somewhat and are walking side by side with identical grim expressions. It doesn’t take them long to realize he and Peter are waiting for them. 

They nod in greeting together, though the wolf speaks first. “Lady Stark, Lord Stark. We were making sure you got some privacy.”

The Lady sniffles, she inclines her head in thanks with red watery eyes. Her arm is tightly looped around Robb’s elbow. “Thank you.” Her voice is mostly steady, she loses some of her tension with each breath. “Though it was not truly necessary.” The lady’s mask finally slips back on, her posture straightens.

“I understand how you both feel,” Peter leads in when the Wolf Boy remains stoned faced and quiet. “I wish things were such that you could have time to grieve but there are pressing matters that we should discuss.” 

Riddick can see Robb’s eyes narrow and catch on to the meaning of the Alpha’s words right away. The boy comes to life then. “I accept your offer.” 

The mother wavers however, her fingers dig into her son's arm. “You are the new Lord of Winterfell Robb, we don’t know how this could change you.” Her blue eyes fix themselves on Peter. “I should be first.”

Before either Riddick or Peter can comment, the lady and her son begin to argue in hushed tones over who should take the risk. They share an exasperated eye roll, the wolf shakes his head before clearing his throat. The Starks quiet down and turn in surprise towards them. “Perhaps the two of you should take some time and discuss it over lunch,” Peter offers diplomatically. “Riddick and I are going to scout the area for Lannister stragglers. Once we return, I hope you’ll have both come to an understanding.” He gives them a parting nod before turning and heading back towards the camp.

Riddick turns his head to watch the wolf go, then looks back at the pair before him. “Don’t take long,” he says and turns to follow the wolf. “Lordings always take too long and wars have been lost because of it.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They break the treeline around Riverrun, the camp to the north east of the ancient stone structure. Rather than an afternoon, Peter and Riddick had been out Lannister hunting until nightfall. The sky was dark with only the many fires for the soldiers to huddle around for warmth and light. 

He turns to Riddick, while they hadn’t caught as many stragglers as they’d hoped, it had been enough to keep them busy. “Think you’ve got that itch scratched enough,” Peter says as he looks back out towards the camp, “or should I be heading back on my own and expect you in the morning?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Riddick says. “Just got a bit impatient. I don’t like waiting for things to happen, I just act.” 

The alpha huffs. “If you think you were being  _ impatient _ , I fear what you’ll think of me in a few days.” He chuckles in self deprecation and begins a leisurely trek towards the camp. “I suppose it’s a good thing Lannisters are so prolific, we’ll just have to keep tossing them at you whenever you start to feel restless. Though we did significantly reduce those numbers in the last few days.” 

Riddick shrugs and grins at him. “There’s always another bastard around the corner,” he says. “It's a shame people in this world seem so easy to kill though. Hardly a challenge.” 

“I suppose it’s a by-product of the times,” Peter considers as they near the first guard post, the northerner straightens up in alertness. He waits until they’ve passed the man not so subtly gawking their way. “Medieval Humans were much the same on Earth. Though from my discussions with the locals, this place has been stagnant for longer than I’d expect.”

Riddick chuckles. “Khan called me a Cro-Magnon once. The problem is that they are humans, not what era they’re from. We’re like a couple of mythical monsters to them, not that I mind.” 

“I’ve been a mythical monster all my life,” Peter chuckles darkly. “I got too used to the cozy life the federation offered us, blending in with all the aliens. Here though, in a world of direwolves and quite possibly dragons, we’re about as mythical as it gets. Have you noticed how they look at us?”

Riddick hums. “You more than me. The monster is more obvious when you fight. I’m just a big guy that’s good at killing.” 

Peter hums in the back of his throat. “Oh, they think we’re much more than that, have you actually listened to their stories?”

“I don’t have your ears, Kitty, I’ve heard a lot of stories about me over the years, what do these Medieval men have to say?” 

“Well, most think you’re a Thenns, an old race beyond the wall that practices cannibalism.” He chuckles with a toothy grin. “A few think we’re what's left of the Children of the Forest. And my personal favorite; that I fathered the pups found near Winterfell, that you and I came here in the search of my dead mate and now we’re here to expand the pack.” He shakes his head. “Admittedly, that last part isn’t far off.”

Riddick pauses for a second and laughs. “I’ve been called worse, but that bit about you...priceless. Puts chasing tail in a whole new light.” He keeps laughing. 

“Yes well… I’ve been called worse things as well though this certainly tops the cake for originality.” He shares the other’s laugh, Stiles would’ve laughed for days with something like that. “But you see my point, these people are using their own legends to explain what we are. That’s bound to spread like wildfire.” Hopefully, those stories will keep spreading until they reach Stiles. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to worry about the Prime Directive here...

“Not a bad thing,” Riddick says. “Being feared can be a good thing. Fear is a bad teacher.” 

“Too true my friend.” Peter slows down once the Lord's tent comes into view, he frowns realizing that it’s empty. A quick look around and he notices the absence of several key individuals. He waves at a man wearing Tully colours. The soldier approaches slowly but Peter isn’t in the mood for platitudes. “Where is Lord Stark?”

The man explains, from a distance, that Lord Stark and his bannermen are holding a war council near the old sept. Peter nods his thanks before heading in the direction the Tully man had pointed. “Looks like he might have taken your comment to heart.” He gives Riddick a pleased smile.

“This place is really full of surprises if people actually listen to me,” Riddick comments as he once again keeps step with him. “Who do you think will take the bite first?” 

Peter takes a moment before answering. In truth, he’s not sure. His first thought is that Cat will, she’s got an iron will and is determined to protect her children. Even at her own detriment. He hopes that Robb will be the first, if only because he’s got a nagging feeling that it’s what he should do. “I’d say odds are a 50/50 split.” He shrugs, the camp thins out around them as they approach the damaged sept. “I can make them out now, looks like there was news while we were out. Someone named Renly is making a bid for the crown.” 

They gain their first look at the gathering from over the edge of the crumbled corner of a fallen wall. A man, a Lord, though Peter doesn’t recall his name is pacing in front of Robb, “You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey my Lord, he killed your father.”

“That doesn’t make Renly king.” Robb’s deadpan answer makes Peter chuckle quietly. The boy follows on about rights of succession, that he’s got no intention of following a man with no rightful claim. He’s got mixed feelings about those arguments, just because Stannis’ claim is  _ legal _ doesn’t make him a worthy ruler… though at this point Peter doubts anyone could do worse than Joffrey.

The Lords, and a few Ladies, shout their agreement or disagreement over each other, until Greatjon Umber steps up. 

“This should be interesting.” Peter whispers to Riddick as the giant northern Lord spits at the names of those who are making bids for the Iron Throne. 

“Renly Baratheon is nothing to me,” the man roars. “Lord Stanis neither! Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall? Or the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong.” Everyone gathered laughs at the last statement. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again?” The man goes on in a lower voice when the laughter stops. “It was the Dragons we bowed to and now the Dragons are dead.” He draws his sword and points it to Robb. “There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to.” He kneels down before Robb. “The King in the North!”

Peter’s eyebrows go up at the unexpected turn. He truly hadn’t seen this coming, some adjustments will no doubt need to be made. A long silence follows the declaration in which Robb comes to his feet.

Another Lord stands after him and looks over the gathered. “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle...and their iron chair too.” He draws his sword and kneels before Robb as well. “The King in the North!” 

Theon stands next. “Am I your brother? Now and always?” 

Robb looks at him and nods. “Now and always.”

Theon draws his sword and kneels. “My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, from this day until my last day.” The boy is truthful, his devotion has been rather obvious since the beginning. Still, there’s something  _ fickle _ about this one that makes Peter think he’ll have to handle that boy differently.

“The King in the North!” Greatjon Umber roars again and this time the chant is picked up by everyone gathered.

“Finally,” Riddick says next to Peter. “I was beginning to worry they would all give a pretty speech.” 

Peter laughs openly, he appreciates a man like Greatjon. “At least these  _ Lords _ are more fun than those of similar rank at diplomatic gatherings…” He cringes, so many hours of mindless drivel while stuffed in an uncomfortable uniform. “Shall we congratulate the new King in the North?”

“As long as they don’t expect us to bow,” Riddick agrees. 

“While I’m sure taking a knee,” Peter begins the trek around the broken down rock wall, “would be appreciated by the Lords, Robb doesn’t strike me as the type to care.” He shrugs. “A certain decree of  _ protocol _ wouldn’t be amiss though.”

“What is protocol here?” Riddick asks, following through the crowd with less finesse than Peter. 

“Well, your Grace instead of Wolf Boy is probably a good start, at least in public.” Peter weaves through the few chairs that had been hastily cast aside. “Maybe a little bow if you think you can stomach it.” He turns back to smirk at the other in the dark.

“We’ll see,” Riddick says with a smirk of his own.

The men slowly settle down and the festivities begin. Everyone is raising their cups to the new King, wishing him a long reign. Rob smiles while inclining his head to each toast, then his eyes fall on Peter and Riddick. “Lord Peter, Lord Riddick,” he calls, and the men around them part to make way for them. “Join me for a drink,” the young King offers. 

Peter inclined his head gratefully though his curiosity is peaked by the way Rob has chosen to address them. His lips pull into a light smile at the disgruntled huff Riddick lets out. “Of course,  _ your Grace _ .” He’s impressed by the way Robb has handled the situation so far, a good sign for things to come hopefully. He bows half way at the waist before sitting down to watch which course of action Riddick will take. 

“King Stark,” Riddick says with a nod and sits down next to Peter. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. Well, it’s certainly a step in the right direction.

“Congratulations, from Lord to King in a day. Impressive.” He grins widely with a little bit of fang. “I apologize for our lateness, more Lannisters in the woods than we’d anticipated. Though it’s clear things here have been busy as well.” 

Robb’s eyes flick to the fangs and back. “I appreciate all that you do here. You will be rewarded when all this is over.” He leans closer. “If your original offer still stands, now that I’m king, I would like to have it done tonight.” 

Peter leans his elbows on the table with a pleased expression. Finally the boy was taking charge of his fate. He nods. “I’m glad, you made the right choice Robb. And what about your Lady mother?” He looks around with a frown, where the hell had she gone now?

Robb turns about with a frown of his own. “It took some convincing but she’s agreed to wait until after me. I uh,” the new king leans forward cautiously, “I want Theo to be after her.” His face is set firmly with conviction. “I promised him he would be my brother, I mean to make it true.”

“I saw the Lady walking off that way. I’m guessing she’s paying pretty boy a visit,” Riddick says and points. 

Worry flashes across the younger man’s face. Peter clears his throat just as Robb starts to get up. “Don’t worry your Grace, your mother is a tough woman. We should get ready, there’s no telling how long tonight could take.” He turns to Riddick after the king deflates and sits back down. “Riddick, would you be amiable to making sure the Lady doesn’t take too long in her business and join us in the King’s tent?”

Peter presses his lips together at the what the fuck look the Furyan aims his way. He supposes everyone else’s speech patterns are rubbing off on him, he shrugs.  _ When in Rome _

“Sure,” Riddick says slowly. “I’ll be  _ amiable  _ and go do that.” He shakes his head as he rises to his feet and goes to look for Lady Stark. “Amiable.” Peter can hear him mumble as he stalks off.

The alpha gets up with a light shake of his head. He can’t help it if he’s naturally predisposed to sophistication. “Shall we fetch young master Greyjoy?”

Robb jumps up, his first smile since the news of his father’s death gracing his face. “You’ll do it?” He asks with a hurried whisper at Peter’s side. 

Peter tries not to get too irritated with the multitudes of interruptions from the boy’s new subjects. He spots Greyjoy drinking with the Umbers. “I’ll be having some words with him first. If he passes then yes, he’ll get the gift as well.”

Robb’s frown returns and glances at his friend. “What kind of words?” the young King asks, his tone making it clear he’s not sure if he likes where this is going. 

A deep sigh makes it past Peter's chest and he stops to look Robb in the eyes. “Being a wolf doesn’t only have the potential to bring out the best in a person, it can bring out the worst.” His next words are gentle but firm. “From what the men around him have said, Theon Greyjoy is a capricious cunt at the best of times and often prone to bully those lower than him.” He put his hand up to silence Robb’s protest. “I don’t believe your friend,  _ brother _ , is bad at his core. I’ve known someone like him, his cruelness was born of insecurity. He turned into a giant lizard instead of a wolf. Killed a lot of innocent people before we got him fixed.” He pins Robb with a serious look. “Is that a chance you’re willing to take your Grace?”

“A lizard?” Robb sputters before he can control himself. He composes himself quickly and takes a deep breath. “And you will be able to determine that by speaking with him first?” 

“Oh I’m an excellent judge of character,” He puts his arm around Robb and gives him a confident smirk.

* * *

  
  


Peter stares down young Theon from his seat by the fire. The boy is sitting in his own chair directly in front of Peter, the light casting shadows on the left side of his face. Theon is still red eyed, though he at least meets Peter’s stare down with determination. It hadn’t taken much prodding to break Theon down to pieces and build him back up. Just as he’d suspected, being a  _ ward _ of the Starks since childhood had given him the same sort of messed up abandonment issues Jackson had suffered from. “You have a lot of promise Theon, with discipline you could make a fine left hand for Robb.” Strategic praise is definitely the way to go with this one.

He pauses to look towards the tent flap just as it opens. Robb jumps up as Riddick walks through, the man holds the fabric aside for Lady Stark to join them. “Is this a private party or can anyone join?” he says with a smile as he lets the fabric drop behind him. He removes his goggles and winks at Lady Stark, to everyone’s surprise the Lady smiles at him.

Robb looks at his mother. “You went to see the King Slayer,” he states, not exactly an accusation but close enough. 

The woman pulls herself up high, a single eyebrow going up at her son’s tone. Peter tries not to openly snicker though he can see Riddick smirk from the corner of his eye. Her lips purse. “I am still your mother. If I wish to ask the King Slayer a few questions it is my right to do so.”

“The Lady was safe the whole time,” Riddick says, then chuckles. “Can’t say the same about pretty boy. The look on his face...was like he got hit by a rock.”

Peter frowns at the uptick in Catelyn’s heart beat, something about Riddick’s wording makes him wonder what had happened out there. He clears his throat to keep the conversation from spiralling. “Now that everyone is here, we’re almost ready to get started. My lady, if you’d come join us. There are some details to cover before we begin.”

Catelyn seems glad for the interruption and only spares a grateful nod towards Riddick before taking a seat on Peter’s right. She looks suspiciously between Theon and Robb, there’s an impression that she disapproves.

“Don’t worry Lady Stark, Theon and I had a very  _ enlightening _ conversation of our own while you were otherwise engaged.” He smiles benignly. “After tonight, Theon will be a member of the Stark pack. Whatever allegiances by blood or otherwise he had in the past will be erased.” He looks squarely at the Lady. “The pack is everything Lady Stark. It is a bond deeper than any blood or vow, your loyalty will always be to the pack first and the pack will be loyal to you.” The alpha gets up to stand in front of the fire, eyes burning as red as it’s ambers. “Do you swear your loyalty to the Stark pack?” A little bit of theatricality serves to drive home the importance of his words.

The tent is quiet for a long moment when surprisingly, Theon stands up and then takes a knee. “I swore to you as my King, I now swear to you as a Stark wolf. My loyalty is with the Stark pack from this day until my last day.” He raises his head to stare up at Robb and it's hard to doubt the boy’s sincerity. 

Catelyn stands as well to put a hand on Theon’s shoulder. She looks at her son with pride. “I became a Stark the day I took my vows to your father. A Stark is who I will always be.”

“Thank you mother.” Robb whispers then looks to Peter with a nod of his head. “I’m ready.” The young king walks towards him with confident strides, back straight, head held high.

“You’ll make a fine wolf Robb.” Peter speaks sincerely and holds out his hand for the young man’s arm. He lifts the sleeve to expose the pale yet strong forearm and brings down his fangs without further discussion. A short pained hiss is the only sound Robb makes. 

An odd feeling shoots through Peter just as he’s about to let go, his legs wobble and he feels his spark dim for a fraction of second before it flares like a backdraft. He gasps as he steps back, Robb staggers back as well and is stopped from going arse over tea kettle by Riddick’s quick reflexes. The alpha pants in confusion while he studies the young king’s face twists in discomfort for a moment before the boy’s eyes flash red. “Sem-rik.”

* * *

  
  


Riddick walks next to Peter with his eyes fixed on Robb’s back. He isn’t sure exactly what had happened after the bite but from Peter’s reaction he could summarise that whatever it was, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Once bitten, the boy’s eyes turned red, like Peter’s. After a few mumbled questions to himself, he’d told the wolf boy to bite his friend, Theon, to test if he had really turned into an Alpha. The new wolf had and Theon changed into a wolf as well, gold eyes for him and gold for Robb’s mother shortly after.

They slow down as they near Jamie’s cage and Robb continues to the small gate on his own. One of the guards opens it for him and he steps inside to stare down at the prisoner. 

“King in the North!” Jamie says cheerfully then lowers his voice. “I keep expecting you to leave me in one castle or another for safekeeping, but you drag me along from camp to camp. Have you grown fond of me, Stark? Is that it? I’ve never seen you with a girl.”

Robb pulls his shoulders back slightly. “If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight and my bannerman would receive a raven with a message, r _ elease my son and you’ll be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your house will be destroyed, root and stem. _ ” 

Jaime’s voice is mocking. “You don’t trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?”

“Oh, I trust them with my life, just not with yours,” Robb says without missing a beat.

“Smart boy,” Jaime says and pauses. “What’s wrong? Don’t like being called ‘boy’?  _ Insulted _ ?”

A growl sounds from behind the prisoner’s cage and is almost instantly joined by another, this time from inside the cage. “You insult yourself, Kingslayer.” Robb’s voice holds a hint of a growl still. “You’ve been defeated by a boy,” Robb keeps talking while his wolf appears stalking next to the cage. “You’re held captive by a boy. Perhaps you’ll be killed by a boy.” The wolf now steps into the cage to stand next to its Alpha. “Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the high lords of Westeros. King Joffrey Baratheon is neither a true king nor a true Baratheon. He’s your bastard son.”

Amazingly enough Jamie’s voice when he speaks again is steady, though Riddick can still sense the fear in it. “If that’s true, Stannis is the rightful king. How convenient for him.”

“My father learned the truth.” Robb goes on, ignoring the comment, his voice once more deepening to an almost growl. “That’s why you had him executed.”

“I was your prisoner when Ned Stark lost his head.” Jamie’s response now reeks of desperation.

Robb’s, on the other hand, is dangerously calm. “Your son killed him so the world wouldn’t learn who fathered him. And you, you pushed my brother from a window because he saw you with the queen.” 

“You have proof? Or do you want to trade gossip like a couple of fishwives?” Jamie says though his voice trails off a bit at the end and his eyes shift nervously in Peter’s general direction.

Robb too turns to look at Peter for a moment. “We got all the proof we need, from your own memories, Kingslayer. Stanni’s letter only confirms it.” He takes a breath, probably trying to keep his anger in. “I’m sending one of your cousins down to King’s Landing with my peace terms.”

“You think my father’s going to negotiate with you? You don’t know him very well,” his voice barely above a whisper now.

“No, but he’s starting to know me,” Robb says smuggly enough to make Riddick grin.

“Three victories don’t make you a conqueror.”

Robb huffs, amused. “It’s better than three defeats,” he says and nudges the wolf forward. From what Riddick can see of Jamie’s reactions the boy showed off his new set of eyes as he did so and twin growls fill the night. The wolf snaps his jaws in Jamie’s face as Robb makes a cocky exit, a wide smirk pulls at the boy’s mouth as he approaches them. His wolf follows a moment later. 

“Well done  _ your Grace _ ,” Peter says with a large amused grin of his own. “I’m impressed, truly.”

Robb nods his thanks, a goofy grin still on his face as he looks at the people around him. He coughs and gets serious. “Someone fetch Ser Alton Lannister to my tent. I wish to send a message.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The tent had a dim and gloomy feel to it that served Riddick just fine. It meant he could keep his goggles off, a rare break when he had to deal with humans, though he had no doubts that the effect was not for his benefit. He picked the darkest corner in the tent to stand and watch as Robb’s bannermen filed in to join them. Robb already stood at the head of a heavy wooden table, his mother on his right, Peter and Theon on his left. The men made their way to their chairs and looked to their King in wait. Robb nodded once and sat, the men sat as well.

“Send him in,” Robb says, and the guard at the entrance stepped outside. He returned a moment later with another guard and a prisoner.

“You’re Ser Alton Lannister?” Robb asks as soon as the prisoner is brought to the table.

“I am, Your Grace,” the man says. Barely a man, Riddick thinks as he studies him.

“I offer your cousins peace if they meet my terms. First, your family must release my sisters. Second, my father’s bones must be returned to us so he may rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell. And the remains of all those who died in his service must also be returned. Their families can honour them with proper funerals.”

“An honourable request, Your Grace,” the boy interrupts, thinking Robb is done.

“Third…” Robb goes on, staring the boy down. “Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to dominion of the North. From this time till the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom.”

The boy’s eyes widen as he listens. He had thought this would be easy, his chance to go back home a hero. Instead he’d have to deliver a message that his crazy king and queen would not like, at all. It didn’t help that the men in the room began chanting. The King in the North.

Robb, who never breaks eye contact with the young Lannister, speaks again. “Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall set foot in our lands again. If he disregards this command, he shall suffer the same fate as my father.” Robb’s eyes turn red for just a second. “Only I don’t need a servant to do my beheading for me.”

The Lannister boy seems scared shitless as he tries to find his voice. “These are… Your Grace, these are…”

Robb stands up and the boy would have stepped back if not for one of the guards putting a firm hand against his back. “These are my terms.” Robb rumbles. “If the Queen Regent and her son meet them, I’ll give them peace. If not, I will litter the South with Lannister dead.”

“King Joffrey is a Baratheon, Your Grace,” the boy stutters.

“Oh, is he?” Robb mocks. “You’ll ride at daybreak, Ser Alton. That will be all for tonight.”

One of the bannermen hands the boy a scroll and the guards escort him out. The men bow to their King and empty the tent, leaving Robb with his mother, Theon and them. Riddick steps out of the shadows and extinguishes a few more candles on his way to the table. He picks up a mug and pours himself a drink. Theon who had been drinking already looks up at him and Riddick winks at the boy. 

Theon makes a choked sound and stands, glancing at Riddick as he makes his way to Robb, who had walked to the entrance of the tent to gaze outside. “A word, Your Grace?”

Robb turns to give his attention to his friend. “You don’t have to call me ‘Your Grace’ when no one’s around.”

“Alpha works too,” Peter calls cheerfully and Riddick chuckles. 

Theon’s head turns to look at each of them and then smirks. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Robb sighs and smiles. “I’m glad someone’s gotten used to it.”

“The Lannisters are going to reject your terms, you know?” Theon presses on.

“Of course they are,” Peter says at the same time as Riddick’s, “No shit.”

Theon glances at them in annoyance before he adds a note of urgency to his voice. The boy is eager to sell whatever idea popped into his mind and Riddick represses a sigh. Eager puppies and all that. “We can fight them in the fields as long as you like, but we won’t beat them until you take King’s Landing. And we can’t take King’s Landing without ships. My father has ships and men who know how to sail them.”

It’s Robb’s turn to be annoyed. ”Men who fought my father,” he says, looking at Theon meaningfully.

The meaning flies over Theon’s head. “Men who fought King Robert to free themselves from the yoke of the South, just like you’re doing now. I’m his only living son. He’ll listen to me. I know he will. I’m not a Stark-”

Robb growls and rounds on his friend with red eyes. “You are a Stark, my brother, my beta!” The young King spits out, causing Theon to step back in shock with golden eyes.

Peter steps in calmly, he seems to have expected that sudden possessive outburst. “Robb’s right, you are a Stark now. Your king and alpha have made it so. And your point may have been true in the past Theon but things have changed now. How many days, not to mention lives, have been saved already with only Riddick and I to tip the balance. You remember the last battle, think of what  _ you’ll _ be able to do now? Besides, there are many ways to win a war and Kings Landing is a large city. Every city has it’s back alleys...” He trails off with a meaningful glance at everyone. “Sometimes, subtle is more effective.” He pats Theon’s shoulder.

Theon bows his head, shame radiating from the boy like stench from a sewer. “I’m sorry, I… The Starks are my family now. But you do need more allies Robb.”

Robb steps back and takes a deep breath. “I’ve got a plan for that,” he says calmly and walks back to the table, waving his hand to show them that they should join him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Riddick stands at the window looking out over the area the people here called Riverrun.  _ Where are you, Beastie?  _ He thought as he scanned the horizon. He squinted as the first hint of light peaked over it and pulled down his goggles. At least they would be moving soon, to meet yet another self proclaimed King. It helps his mood a lot that they were finally doing something. Ever since Peter turned Robb the young King is just as eager to get moving as Riddick.

He turns away from the window to go pick up his bag. The door slams open before he reaches it. Riddick has a knife in his hand, ready to ghost the man that burst in when he sees who it is. “Peter,” he growls warningly and lowers the knife. “Got a death wish, kitty?” 

The wolf stops short and it takes longer than it normally would for him to right himself. The way his face has shifted to somewhere between human and wolf makes it hard to read him. “I know where they are!” He heaves out while tightening the fur wrapped around his waist.

Riddick doesn’t need to ask who the wolf means. He puts the knife in its sheath and steps closer. “Where?” he asks. 

“Kingslayer wasn’t far off his guess.” The wolf snorts. “They’re somewhere in Essos, Stiles said they were heading to a city called Qarth tomorrow.” He grins proudly. “They found the dragon lady already.”

“Stiles said?” Riddick asks, confused. “You spoke to your boy? How? And Khan is with him?” He wanted to grab the wolf and shake all the answers out of him at once. “Are they safe?”

Peter for some reason goes a little quiet, he clears his throat like he doesn’t know where to start. “It’s... Remember how I said Stiles and I could telepathically communicate over great distances?” He pauses for Riddick’s impatient nod. “Well that ability is always enhanced during the Shift. We shared a dream, of a sort.”

Riddick tilts his head and studies the wolf. If he had a tail it just might be between his legs now. Riddick steps back and chuckles. “Can’t say I would’ve done differently. So what information did you get while you were having your wet dream?” 

Peter chuffs but he doesn’t disagree with Riddick’s words. “Q dropped them in Essos, someplace called the Red Waste. Doesn’t inspire warm feelings but Stiles looked in good shape, the clothes were a bit…” The man drifts off with a smile. “Anyway, in three days they’ll reach a city, Qarth? And the whole mother of dragons thing is pretty literal. There’s a girl with them and she’s got, and I quote, legit baby dragons.” He shrugs with a shamelessly proud smirk. “Got a bit distracted after that.”

Riddick steps back further and sits on the edge of his bed with a relieved sigh. He hadn’t even realized how stressed he was until that moment. “I was worried that that Q bastard lied, if Khan and your boy are well and together then they can probably handle anything. Legit baby dragons huh? That’s something I’d like to see.” 

Peter nods in agreement. “Well at least now we have a name to look for on all those maps.” He tucks part of the fur wrap into himself so he can cross his arms. “We’re also guaranteed a check in every 28 days,” he smirks over large canines, “I promise I’ll make time to get more information next time.”

Riddick grins and nods. “I’d appreciate that, but like I said, if Khan came in my dreams first thing I’d do would be to hump his ass too.” He stands and walks over to the wolf. “Let’s go get us a map.” 

“I should stop by my room first,” He looks down at himself with a frown. “I’m not sure much will fit… other than my cloak I suppose.”

“So now you’re shy,” Riddick says and walks past him. “I’ll wait for you in the mess hall?” 

Peter tuts. “We’ve already established shyness is not the issue, it’s these people and they’re fragile sensibilities. I think I gave some servant girl a stroke on my way here.” He chuckles while following at a casual pace. 

Riddick laughs softly, he’s in a good mood for the first time since they got to the damned place. “I do that all the time at the palace, Khan always lectures me about propriety. Go get all proper then, I want to check those maps before we have to go find, what’s his name.”

The wolf stops at Riddick’s side and shakes his head. “The Federation is pretty liberal, but a nice Vulcan robe wouldn’t be amiss right now.” He adjusts his makeshift loin cloth with a disgruntled frown. “And it’s Renly that we’re escorting Cat to parlay with. Should ask for some local maps too, gonna be a long trip by horseback from the sounds of it. I’d feel better knowing the lay of the land beforehand.”

“Vaako has taken to wearing those robes lately,” Riddick comments thinking of their friends back home. “I think he looks silly and only does it because he likes the breeze on his dick.” He smirks. “As for me, I’ll walk whenever possible. Can’t stand being on those horses doing nothing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> Another chapter, things are ramping up for the boys :) A huge thank you to all you wonderful readers who've subscribed, kudo'd, bookmarked, and commented! We're still having a blast writing this, though we've picked back up on some of individual projects as well, hence the longer update.   
> *"Sem-rik" is Vulcan for "fascinating", In the fic Happenstance, Peter becomes fond of Vulcan culture as well as having a friendship with Spock. Again, it's not necessary to have read either of our fics to enjoy this one, we'll always make sure to include details like this in the notes if an explanation is needed.   
> As always, questions and comments are very welcome :D  
> Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

Khan rides his horse next to Stiles, they still keep a small distance from the group of Dothraki but that has more to do with privacy than acceptance now. They can clearly see the city ahead of them, even though they still have some distance to go. It’s been three days since they began their trek to Qarth and Khan had used that time to teach the girl how to act like a queen. She’s a stubborn one and they butted heads on a few points, but he was confident she would at least get them inside those walls.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he tells Stiles. “Usually you talk my ears off.” The ride had been long and monotonous. 

The other man startles a bit, he looks to Khan with an apologetic smile. “Yeah, just got a lot on my mind after talking to Jorah about what Westeros is like.” He scowls as he looks ahead, his shoulders sag for a moment. “I don’t like that Peter is stuck in the middle of another war… but it’s gonna take a while to get us and Danny all the way across a freaking ocean… and she’s gonna need an army. But is that even the-” Stiles stops. “You see where I’m going right?”

“It’s going to be a long time before we see our mates again,” Khan says. He doesn’t like it either but it's not like they have many choices. At least Stiles had been able to get them some information on Riddick’s and Peter’s location during his shift. “Westeros doesn’t sound much worse than where we ended up, and I’m sure they can handle themselves.” He looks over at the Ushgul. “My main worry now is that little girl and her unrealistic idealism.”

Stiles nods in understanding. “I’m not worried that Peter can’t handle some old timey Lords, he’s probably right at home.” The man snorts fondly. “It’s just, well, we’re not invincible. You’re right though, best chance of getting back to them is getting Danny’s expectations under control. She’s learned a bit from her loss but I still don’t think she understands what a power vacuum is…”

“She’s young, she has potential, but it's easy for power to corrupt someone like her. And no she doesn’t understand how it all works because she doesn’t want to.” He watches the blonde girl ahead of them for a bit. “Though I’m impressed with what they did to her brother.” 

“Yeah, I gotta admit the irony is pretty awesome.” Stiles’ face splits into a sharp grin. “I don’t think Jorah will ever get tired of telling that story.” He adjusts his position on his horse with a bit more finesse. “I had a good friend that was a bit like her, super naive but a good heart… too good sometimes. Anyway, he was what they call a true alpha. While it just meant he was stubborn enough to force the change, a lot of people, himself included, took it as some sort of sign that he was werewolf Jesus… That’s the problem with the whole right to the throne stuff, makes you think everything is just meant to be instead of working for it.”

Khan smiles. “It can work to your favor sometimes, if you have the right reputation, but she doesn’t. At least not yet. Once we’re inside the city, we should start looking for opportunities to get a ship as soon as possible.” 

“That’s as good a place to start as any. I get the feeling we’ll have to watch our backs in Qarth, any place that’s got a  _ garden of bones _ at its front gates is probably messed up in some way.” Stiles tone says he’s speaking from experience.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Khan begins, unsure how to breach the matter. “What happens if we’re inside a city like that on your next shift? Or worse, a ship?” 

Stiles looks up, eyes closed before he drops his head with a sigh. “I think we should tell Danny and Jorah what I am, let them see me change while I’m in full control. We can wait a day or so, find some place private to talk.” He looks at Khan after a moment of consideration. “High pitched frequencies and electricity will knock my ass down at least for a bit if I were to lose it for some reason. I know hunting in the desert made it easier but as long as I’ve got food and a quiet corner to sit alone in the dark I should be fine…” A fine blush spreads across his cheeks before he turns back to the procession ahead of them.

“Well, since I have neither a device that produces those frequencies or electricity here, let's hope a dark corner and food will be enough. Telling them might also be a good idea, though there will be others around we’ll need to keep you hidden from. A cloak perhaps will do the trick if you can keep the growling to a minimum.” 

Stiles huffs. “A cloak with a deep hood should do great, maybe some gloves if it doesn’t look too out of place. And c’mon, it wasn’t that bad, was it? I didn’t even try to hump your leg.” He chuckles wryly. 

Khan smirks. “Only because you were having too much fun dreaming. Don’t think I didn’t hear that.” 

“Well,” a dry cough. “If you knew Peter, you wouldn’t blame me.” He smirks and winks. “At least we get an update every month… and who knows, we might get to actually feel their presence as we get closer to Westeros.”

“It’s possible,” Khan says and looks ahead at the city. “Almost there.” He tugs the reins to the side and nudges the horse’s sides with his heels. The animal is well trained and instantly goes to a light trot. Stiles’s horse assumes it should follow and comes after them without any prompting from its rider. 

“So I hate to be the black bird here, but what do we do if they don’t let us in,” Stiles whispers as his horse trots up next to Khan’s.

“We kill them, of course,” Khan says. He looks at Stiles and grins. “I have a feeling they’ll let us in though.” 

A startled laugh bubbles out of the Ushgul. “Wow, you really are a lot like Peter…” He shakes his head. “I hope your feeling is right, cause I’d rather not have to get too in touch with the animal side…”

Khan chuckles before nudging his horse to go a bit faster. He brings it next to the girl’s and nods politely at her. “I think it’s time to get your dragon out, your Highness.”

Daenerys nods and raises her hand to pause the procession. One of her servant girls hurries to the wagon to retrieve the little black dragon. It happily climbs to her shoulder and wraps its tail around her neck. She looks nervously at Khan before sitting up with her back straight. “I would like you and Stiles close to me when those gates open,” she says.

“As you wish,” Khan says and keeps his horse just a step behind hers as they begin to move again.

The gates begin to open as they approach and soldiers come pouring out with shields and spears. Khan raises an eyebrow at Stiles just as Daenerys pulls her horse slightly back to whisper at Jorah.

“I thought we were welcome?” she asks with uncertainty.

“If you heard a Dothraki horde was approaching your city, you might do the same, Khaleesi,” Jorah says.

Daenerys looks behind her. “Horde?” she says, almost sarcastically at the same time as Stiles lets out a not so discreet snort.

Thirteen men and women walk out of the gate next, all dressed in an extravagant and expensive manner. One of the men takes the lead and approaches them while the others remain behind the soldiers.

“This is ridiculous,” Khan mumbles and kicks his horse forward, stopping the man in his tracks. Stiles quietly follows his lead and sits quietly in his saddle next to him. “My Lords and Ladies,” Khan says, trying to keep his voice from showing his disgust. “You have the honor of receiving Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Mother of Dragons.” He pins the man with a cold stare. As if on cue, the distinct sound of flapping, leathery wings comes from behind him and Drogo chirps loudly from his spot on his  _ mother’s _ shoulder.

The man touches his chest in an exaggerated and flamboyant display of shock and indignity. “I’m no lord, merely a humble merchant.” He peers around Khan to glance at Daenerys with a surreptitious frown. “And  _ you _ are the Mother of Dragons?” His beady eyes fix themselves on Drogo greedily, it’s obvious he hadn’t actually expected the creatures to be real.

Daenerys trots her horse forward to put herself between Stiles and Khan. She seems to hesitate, a sour look crossing her face while she lays a gentle hand on Drogo’s back to soothe him. “I am.” Her voice is tight but controlled. “If you are no lord, then what should we call you?”

“Oh, my name is quite long and quite impossible for foreigners to pronounce.” The opulent man flutters a hand almost dismissively. “I am simply a trader of spices.” He inclines his head only slightly, those greedy eyes never truly leaving the young dragon. “But we are the Thirteen, charged with the governance and protection of Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be.”

Khan looks at Daenerys and back at the man. “You insult our queen?” he says with ice in his voice. “What kind of man refuses to give his name?” 

The spice trader gives Khan an affronted look, though it turns to a closed mask quickly. The man straightens up, almost puffing himself up. “No offense was meant, merely a kindness to spare others some  _ embarrassment _ . I am Schienthrad Ath'em'oull Rheuxang-che.” He announces with a slight bow and a cocky raised eyebrow. “And who are you that would insult a member of the Thirteen?”

“I’m Khan Noonien Singh, one of the Queen’s advisors. And I would rather have you respect her than offer her false kindness, spice merchant Schienthrad Ath'em'oull Rheuxang-che.” 

As the merchant gapes at Khan’s perfect pronunciation of his name, a tall dark man from among the Thirteen approaches. He calls the guards to rest and stops at the merchant’s side with a mild look of disgust aimed at the short fat man. “I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos.” The man bows lower to a more respectable level. His eyes go to Khan then to the other men surrounding Daenerys and studies them all with practiced sharpness before his gaze settles on the young queen to be. “Qarth is honored to welcome the Mother of Dragons within it’s gates.” 

Schienthrad’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t seem to feel the same honor as Xaro. A pale eyebrow arches. “Qarth did not become the greatest city that ever was or will be by letting Dothraki savages through its gates.” He gives Daenerys’ group another assessing glance. “Surely the Mother of Dragons can understand the need to protect one's home.” Despite his choice of words, it’s clear the merchant is not truly concerned with his safety and more with his purse. 

Xaro almost snorts. “Retreating in fear from a little girl is unbecoming of the greatest city that ever was or will be.”

“The discussion is over, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. The Thirteen have spoken,” Schienthrad snaps, trying and failing to look down his nose at the taller man.

“I am one of the Thirteen, and I am still speaking,” Xaro says pointedly.

Khan glances at Daenerys and lifts an eyebrow at her. The girl nods and nudges her horse forward a bit. “Thirteen, I was told that I would be welcomed to Qarth, I even brought two mountain goats to show my gratitude, if however, I am to be turned away, know that you make an enemy this day.” She nudged the horse with her heel and Khan and Stiles made way as the beast began to turn around. 

“I believe we can allow a few Dothraki through our gates without dooming our city,” Xaro argues with the other quickly. “After all, here I am, a savage from the Summer Isles, and Qarth still stands.” He takes a few steps forwards when all he’s met with is stubborn silence. “Mother of Dragons!” He calls to Daenerys’ retreating back. “I humbly ask your patience with the Spice King,” He turns to the other members of the Thirteen. “I invoke soumai.” He unsheathes a dagger then drags it across his palm. “I will vouch for her, her people, and her dragons, in accordance with the law.”

Schienthrad appears to run out of excuses, his face twisting like he’s chewing on a lemon. “Be it on your head.” He sniffs and turns towards the Khalassar with resignation. “Welcome to Qarth, my lady.”

Daenerys gives Khan a smug little smile that makes him grin as the gates open to reveal the city beyond. Khan has to admit that the city looks beautiful in its own medieval way, but his heart soars when he finally catches a glimpse of the ocean from between the buildings.

* * *

  
  


Stiles easily splits his attention between the conversion happening in Danny’s room and the one in front of him. He smiles at the way the handmaidens fuss over Danny. Jorah is leaning on the wall opposite from Khan, the man fiddles with his new shirt. It’s clear he’s not comfortable with the silky fabric in rich golden tones. Danny had insisted, however, if she was given new attire so would her people. Thus, here they were. All three of them dressed up like some pampered cabana boys. 

Only Khan seems comfortable with the outfits. Probably from the whole Emperor gig. The Augment frowns when Jorah picks at his shirt again. “Will you stop fidgeting? I thought you were a noble.”

The older knight stops with a huff. “It has been many years since I’ve been to court, and I never cared much for it to begin with.” He looks down at himself dejectedly. “Even so, Westorosi fashion is much more…”

“Up tight?” Stiles offers with a snort. “Just consider yourself lucky you’ve never been to a Betazoid wedding, or unlucky I guess depending on your perspective.” He laughs to himself. An open silky shirt was rather tame in comparison.

Khan’s interest seems to perk up. “I’ve never had the pleasure,” he says smoothly. 

“Birthday suits are mandatory for everyone.” He answers with a wiggle of his eyebrows. At the confused look he sees on Jorah’s face Stiles leans in to theatrically whisper. “Naked,  _ everyone _ has to be naked.” He nearly looses it and has to press his lips firmly together to keep from laughing at the blonde’s shocked reaction.

Khan has no such qualms and chuckles. “Well, that explains a lot, actually,” he says with a shit eater grin.

There’s a story there, Stiles is sure of it but he’s not sure now’s a right time for that. He pats Jorah’s shoulder a few times. “Just relax, it’s just for one little party and then you can go back to looking like a hobo.” He shares a smirk with Khan. “But maybe, just maybe, a certain somebody would be more likely to see what a catch you are when you clean up.” 

Jorah splutters and glares but he doesn’t contradict Stiles, instead he looks down at himself again with a more discerning eye. The man hums in the back of his throat then looks up with a pleased smirk. “I do  _ clean up _ well.” 

Stiles laughs, happy that the man is finally starting to loosen up around them. “That’s the spirit,” he leans back against the wall. His chuckle dies down and he smiles nostalgically. Moments like this remind him of who he should be spending his days with right now. He feels guilty that they get to enjoy the luxuries of the oasis that is Qarth while Peter and Riddick are stuck in the trenches of a northern war. A light cough precedes his next subject. “So, while we’re waiting for the Khaleesi to get ready for her party.” He turns to face Jorah. “What’s the plan here? How exactly are we supposed to get Danny to Westeros from here?” So far, they’d never gotten Jorah to a point where the man was comfortable sharing his queen’s plans without her there. 

The man’s relaxed features harden for a moment. His gaze holds Stiles’, looking for something. His shoulders relax slightly then he turns towards Khan to do the same. The augment meets the stare with casual interest and Jorah nods to himself. “The khaleesi is still set on the path her brother had set them on; gather an army and ships to sail them across the sea to conquer Westeros by force.” The look of distaste is clear on his face. “There are many still loyal to the Targaryens in Westeros  _ if _ someone worthy were to reveal themselves that is. I believe she has the potential to become a great ruler, with patience and the right allies,” he aims a short grateful nod towards Khan. “Your words have added to my own but she is… willful.”

Khan crosses his arms. “She’s your queen, she has the last word, all you can do is advice and hope she makes the right choices. She will make mistakes, but it's not your job to scold her when she does, not unless you want her hating you. As for those loyal to her still...it happens, and kingdoms can and have been won by good alliances, but how certain are you of these loyalists?”

“The Reach, Crowlands, and Dorne all remained loyal to House Targaryen. The Northern Houses only joined the rebellion because of what was done to House Stark. Robert’s reign hasn’t endeared him to those houses, Dorne most of all, there isn’t a House in Dorne that doesn’t spit at the Lannister name. Houses Tarly, Hightower, and Martel are still loyal, of that I am certain. They would prove powerful allies.” Jorah answers quietly at first, he becomes more confident, hopeful even, as he finishes his pitch.

Stiles is relieved to hear Jorah has a plan that’s more appealing than attempting to gather an army then shipping it across the ocean on wooden boats. He looks at Khan, wondering what the augment’s thoughts are on all this noble cloak and dagger shit.

Just as Khan leans forward to ask something, Daenerys’ door opens. Her two handmaidens, one is a rather reserved Dothraki girl, Irri. Stiles likes her a lot more than Doreah, who constantly flirts with him and Khan no matter how many times she’s turned away. The girls walk past them with wide eyes and expectant smiles.

Daenerys’ head pokes out from behind the door, her normally pale cheeks tinged pink. Stiles frowns at the anxiety he smells drifting from her. He studies her violet eyes, she meets his gaze with resolve and a deep breath. When she steps out into the hall with a straight back and head held high, he’s not sure what she’d been worried about until he hears a sharply indrawn breath from Jorah.

Stiles focuses on Danny’s new dress with understanding. “Oh.” He manages to bury his surprise quickly, his expression switching to diplomat mode instantly. It should have been expected, they’d seen many examples of the local fashion while they’d been paraded through Qarth on their way to Xaro’s mansion. Still, he hadn’t thought Daenerys would actually go for the whole  _ free nip _ thing… 

“Oh,” Khan echos Stiles’ reaction and his eyes quickly snap to Danny’s eyes. “You look, lovely, your Majesty,” the Augment says tactfully.

Danny smiles shyly. “Thank you.” She looks around at them. “You all look handsome as well. Shall we?”

Stiles relaxes a little, she’s not uncomfortable but she had been worried about their reaction. He looks back to Jorah ignoring all the  _ angst _ the knight is exuding. Something needs to be done about that… A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, “Ser Jorah, if you can escort the Khaleesi, we’ll take point.” He winks and the older man nearly falters.

Despite the redness of his ears, Jorah steps forward with confidence and a warm smile. He crooks his elbow out, giving Danny the choice to take his arm or simply walk beside him. “Khaleesi.”

Danny delicately but confidently places her hand on Jorah’s arm and smiles at him with a nod. The two proceed to lead the way down the hall and flight of stairs towards the party. Khan gives Stiles a ‘what the hell’ look before following.

He gives Khan a shrug as they walk before whispering. “I think it’s a good thing, shows she’s willing to embrace other cultures. She’ll need that sort of open mindedness when she gets to Westeros.” Stiles smirks playfully. “Plus she totally rocks it.”

Khan snorts. “Call me old fashioned but if I was visiting and asked to walk around with my penis hanging loose I’d say no. If it's her choice, fine but as queen, she has every right to set boundaries.” 

“I’ve had to wear some pretty ridiculous things in my time with Starfleet. When it comes to making nice with other nations, even an admiral would let his junk fly if it was the local custom.” He fluffs his sheer sunset orange shirt as an example. “This isn’t exactly my colour but it also allows me to blend in. You’re right though, that when she’s Queen, she should be able to set her personal boundaries. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have worn it if she didn’t want to.” He taps his nose. “You can trust me when I say the Khaleesi is happy with her dress. She was more concerned we’d flip out and send her back in her room like a little girl.”

“I  _ was  _ tempted.” He looks at Stiles with a smugly raised eyebrow. “Did you just lecture me on diplomacy?”

Stiles returns the smug look. “Don’t let this pretty face and flagrant disregard for authority fool you. I’ve been doing security for diplomats for over a decade, served with some of our best ambassadors. So yeah, I guess I did.” He grins widely.

Khan grins back. “More civilized times, I suppose, don’t forget, I am over six hundred years old.” He winks. “Old dog and all that.” 

Stiles shakes his head as they reach the bottom of the steps. He can hear the distant chatterings of a large crowd down the right hall. “That trick doesn’t work with me, remember my point of origin is barely two decades after yours.”

“Yet it was a completely different world,” Khan says, sounding like his mind was somewhere far away.

Stiles shrugs, the man isn’t wrong. He shifts his attention up ahead to the archway that leads to the open courtyard, Xaro waits there patiently for Deanerys. He frowns despite himself, something about the man sets his back teeth on edge. Judging by what he can hear, this little party in honour of the Mother Of Dragons has a larger guest list than he’d expected. A little sound of displeasure precedes the crack of his knuckles.

As they catch up to Danny and Jorah, Stiles keeps his attention mostly on Xaro. He catalogues every reaction, every twitch, and smell. The man doesn’t seem interested in the Khaleesi, at least not physically… which is odd given that the man’s expression conveys the opposite.

Khan leans in, his shoulder lightly touching his before he whispers. “Xaro, correct?” the Augment asks. “Something’s off about him, what do your senses tell you?”

Stiles nods lightly. He tries to think of the best way he could phrase it. He knows Khan can hear him with only a whisper but he’d rather be cautious. “If I told you he reminds of a used car salesman, you’d get my meaning?”

Khan’s lips twitch. “I would, and I agree.” He studies Xaro a bit more. “The face shows a different emotion than what his heart tells me. He’s interested in something but it's not the young queen.” 

“Yup.” Stiles bobs his head as they come to a stop behind Daenerys and Jorah. The knight is making a poor show of hiding his displeasure over the fact he’s been asked to let the queen mingle on her own. He’s not thrilled either but the older man has to unclench if he doesn’t want to end up being a father figure instead of what he wishes. “Khaleesi, Ser Jorah.” He greets casually before nodding to Xaro. “Xaro, thank you for your hospitality.” He turns back to Jorah and grabs the blonde’s arm. “Let’s do a perimeter, keep an eye on the Khalasar... Khan’s used to dealing with chatty nobles.” He grins disarmingly then gives the augment a meaningful look as he drags Jorah away through the little shrubbery maze. “You and I are gonna have a talk by the food.” He whispers to the knight. 

Once they make it to a large banquet table, Stiles lets go of Jorah. He fills up a small cloth with various bits of fruit, all the while ignoring the daggers in the knight’s blue eyes. “How old are you Jorah?” The question comes out from around a mouthful of something that could be a fig. 

The knight looks at him as if startled by the question, then his ears turn slightly pink. “Too old for her, is that what you’re going for?” he says sullenly. “I’ve had fifty name days.” 

Stiles sighs, “To be brutally honest,” he looks at Jorah with a gentle smile, “yeah, you’re too old for her. But it’s not just that.” He throws a few grapes into his mouth and goes to stand next to the man. “I’m sorry to tell you but she’s not interested, not even a little. If she was, I wouldn’t care about your age.” He leans over a bit to make sure Jorah is looking at him. “C’mon man, you can’t tell me that a guy with your life could have a fulfilling relationship with an 18 year old girl… Plus there’s the whole princesses having to marry princes thing. Let’s face it, marriage is how most allies are made in your world isn’t it?”

Jorah is clearly annoyed but also embarrassed. “I never- I- I can’t help how I feel about her. I know it’s irrational and probably doomed, but I care deeply for her.” He sighs and seems to shrink into himself a bit.

He pats the knight on the arm reassuringly. “Expectations are the root of all heartbreak, my friend.” Stiles shakes his head a bit. “You’re a good man Jorah, and Danny deserves all the love she can have. You can still love her, just not the way you do now.” He pauses as he feels a presence brushing against his mind.

A feeling, like concern, comes over him. He looks around confused and locks eyes with Khan who’s staring at him from across the garden. The Augment nods then tilts his head to discreetly point at something. His gaze follows in the direction the augment had aimed in. “What the…” Stiles nudges Jorah with a scowl aimed at two Dothraki men talking in whispers while gesticulating grandly. “Great, break’s over. Let’s go see what the problem is.” 

Stiles walks briskly, choosing the path that surrounds the garden. He can hear what the men are saying from this distance easily but he hasn’t picked up enough of the language to fully understand. He glances back to Jorah, the knight is keeping pace with him with a mildly amused smile. 

They reach the pair of arguing Dothraki before he can ask what the man finds amusing. Jorah folds his arms, patiently listening as the men in front of them have it out. He adds a few comments here and there, though the words aren’t ones Stiles is familiar with. 

He’s so busy trying to figure out what the hell the issue is with the goddy peacock statue that he doesn’t notice Daenerys and Khan’s arrival. Stiles hides his startle as the Khaleesi hisses hurriedly at them. “What are they doing?” 

Jorah delivers his answer with poorly restrained amusement. “Malakko says the statue is too heavy to carry. Kovarro says that Malakko is an idiot. They can pry out the gems, the rest is pure gold. Very soft. He can chop off as much as we can carry.”

Stiles desperately, and successfully, keeps a straight face while Kovarro and Malakko speak to their Khaleesi. The shock on her face is rather telling of her opinion on the matter. Her cheeks burn red in embarrassment as she scolds her men in their own language.

The two riders apparently try to argue the point, their careless demeanor regarding the matter makes Stiles grin a little. He gives a quick look towards Khan who’s standing slightly behind Danny, the augment isn’t even really trying to hide his own amusement. After a bit more back and forth, the Khaleesi’s men bow their heads in defeat before sulking away.

Daenerys sighs as she looks to the three men remaining around her. “My brother used to say the only thing the Dothraki knew how to do was steal things better men have built.”

Jorah half snorts. “ It’s not the only thing. They’re quite good at killing the better men.”

“That’s not the kind of queen I’m going to be.” She answers with certainty.

“If those men were truly better, the Dothraki would neither be able to steal from or kill them,” Khan puts in, still grinning. 

An odd smell fills Stiles' nose, it nearly drives a growl out of him causing a reflex of reaching for his absent phaser… something he hasn’t done since arriving. He quickly looks about looking for the source and his eyes fall on a strange sallow looking man he remembers seeing among the Thirteen.

“Mother of Dragons.” The man calls out as he approaches then stops a few feet away. “On behalf of the warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you.” He bows only slightly. 

While Danny seems amiable to listen to whatever the  _ warlock _ has to say, Stiles can’t help going on high alert. He does his best to appear relaxed at Jorah’s side, he notices however that Khan takes a step closer to Danny. The Augment’s expression is neutral but also icy. A quick glance around them only puzzles him more so. Everyone present is relaxed or curious.

“A demonstration?” The warlock offers his hand to Daenerys, when she extends her hands forward he places a green gem the size of a walnut in her palm. “Take this gem. Look at it. Into its depths.” As his words gain in intensity, something about his glassy blue eyes sets off all of the Ushgul’s warning bells. “So many facets. Look closely enough and you can see yourself in them.” With that, the man turns back, and shock spreads through the crowd. 

Though not more shocked than what Stiles is experiencing, he’s sure his eyes glowed for a second. An exact duplicate of the warlock has somehow materialized nearly ten feet behind the original.

“Often more than once.” The clone intones with the same voice.

The first warlock turns back to Daenerys. “Should you grow tired of Xaro’s baubles and trinkets, it would be an honour to host you at the House of the Undying.” He pauses, something about his face changes slightly with his next words. “You are always welcome, Mother of Dragons.”

That’s when it clicks for Stiles, the dragons. Daenerys’ fears had been right, the people here, these warlocks in particular, were after her dragons.

* * *

Khan watches the warlock disappear back into the crowd, always keeping Daenary’s in his line of vision as well. It wasn’t just that the warlock had made his own alarm bells go off but also the fact that Stiles seemed, for a moment, like he wanted to tear the man’s throat out. Daenerys seems oblivious to the effect the man has on her companions and instead appears amused by the whole demonstration.

“My apologies,” Xaro says, pushing through the applauding crowd to come to Daenerys’ side. “Pyat Pree is one of the Thirteen. It was customary for me to extend him an invitation. Customs die slow deaths in Qarth.”

“What is the House of the Undying?” Daenerys asks, her curiosity obviously peaked as well as what Khan perceives as excitement for the big man’s attention. 

Stiles takes a few casual steps towards Khan to brush some invisible fluff off his shoulder. Once the younger man is facing away from Xaro he whispers, “I’m taking Jorah to check on the dragons, don’t let on, and make an excuse up for us. Come find us once it’s safe.” He barely waits for Khan’s nod before he’s manhandling the knight again. Thankfully Jorah has caught on that something is going on and goes without making a fuss.

Khan was vaguely aware of Xaro’s and Danny’s conversation while his attention was on Stiles. Smart move, to check on the dragons, but Khan doubts he can consider the situation safe until Danny is also away from Xaro’s dubious attentions. He follows a few steps behind as the unlikely pair begin to move off. He frowns as it becomes obvious that the man is leading Danny away from the more ‘busy’ areas of the party, he even has the nerve to give Khan a dirty look when he realizes they are being followed. Khan responds with a smug smile and otherwise ignores the man.

"So, tell me, are all your menservants in love with you?” Xaro asks sarcastically.

Daenerys glances back and sees Khan, probably just then realizing he’s still shadowing her. “They’re not my menservants and they’re not in love with me,” she says, her voice full of amusement. “They’re my advisers, my friends.” She pauses. “And the two younger ones are spoken for and their preferences lie elsewhere.”

“Unlikely,” Xaro says and again gives Khan a dirty look. “The older one at least sees you as more. I can almost always tell what a man wants.”

For once Daenerys seems unimpressed. “And what about what a woman wants?” she asks coldly, almost making Khan proud.

“Much more complicated,” Xaro says, unphased. “You, for example, what do you want?”

“To cross the Narrow Sea and take back the Iron Throne.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised my khalasar I’d protect them and find them a safe home,” Daenerys says, now sounding unsure.

Xaro chuckles as the bastard smells blood. “You want to conquer the Seven Kingdoms for the Dothraki?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

It only serves to fuel Daenerys’ determination. “I want them because they’re mine by right. The Iron Throne is mine and I will take it.”

“Ah, a conqueror,” Xaro says, pretending to be impressed.

She sees through it. “And how did you get all of this? Did someone give it to you?”

“No. I come from nothing. I hit the docks like a piece of cargo, except someone normally cares what happens to cargo.”

“So you wanted more than you had and you took it.” She quickly cuts him off. “You’re a conqueror, too. You’re just less ambitious.” The sarcasm in her voice makes the man chuckle. “What do you want, Xaro Xhoan Daxos?” Danny goes on after a short pause. “At the gates of the city, you bled for me. Why?”

Khan resists groaning at the opening she unwittingly gave the man. She was doing so well up until that moment.

* * *

  
  


Khan had surprised himself by not snapping that man’s neck. Not that he wasn’t an ambitious man himself but Xaro’s way of going about it rubbed him the wrong way. However, Xaro’s ambition didn’t annoy him at that moment as much as the girl’s stupidity did. He leans back against a wall and crosses his arms, Stiles is sitting next to him on one of the plushy chairs fidgeting but his mind seems elsewhere, despite the raging argument between Jorah and Danny.

“If you cross the sea with an army you bought-” Jorah patiently tries to reason with her but she speaks over him.

“The Seven Kingdoms are at war with one another,” she says, raising her voice. “Four false kings destroying the country.”

“To win Westeros, you need support from Westeros,” Jorah’s voice is stern.

“The usurper is dead,” she exclaims like a spoiled child. “The Starks fight the Lannisters, and Baratheons fight each other.”

“According to your new friend who earned your trust by cutting his hand?” Jorah says, finally showing enough spine to treat her like the child she is.

“The time to strike is now,” she snaps back, getting more and more irritated. “We need to find ships and an army or we’ll spend the rest of our lives rotting away at the edge of the world!”

“Rich men do not become rich by giving more than they get. They’ll give you ships and soldiers and they’ll own you forever. Moving carefully is the hard way, but it’s the right way.” It's hard watching Jorah try to remain calm, especially since Khan, and from what he can tell Stiles as well, share his sentiment. “I know the opportunity before you seems like the last you’ll ever have, but you must…”

“Do not speak to me like I’m a child,” Danny snaps and pushes past him. Her eyes fall on Khan. “Well? Speak. Are you not also my advisors?”

Khan raises an eyebrow trying to control his anger. “You’ve been sold to one man like a broodmare before and now that you have more options, feasible options, given by an advisor who cares for your well being, you want to whore yourself again? Xaro lied to you, I don’t know about what exactly but you should be less willing to spread your legs over empty promises.” 

Stiles clears his throat as Daenerys puffs up for another volley. “No offense, Danny, but you’re letting the whole usurper thing get to you. Jorah and Khan are both correct. Xaro is not the way to get your family’s legacy back, he feels no attraction towards you.” He looks at the opulent room and waves his hand around. “All this, it’s for show. Empty of any real value.” He points to the crates that hold the sleeping dragons. “That is what they want, not you. You cannot lose sight of what is truly important to you.”

She seems to calm down some after Stiles’ monologue but she still throws a final glare at Khan. “So what would you have me do,” She turns to Jorah, “as my adviser?”

Jorah jumps at the opportunity like an eager puppy. “Make your own way. Find your own ship. You only need one. The allies we need are in Westeros, not Qarth.”

“And how do I get the ship?”

“I’ll find it for you,” Jorah says. “A sound ship with a good captain.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” she says, she’s still sulking but she’s also subdued. “Now leave me.”

“Khaleesi,” Jorah says and turns to head out.

“There’s something else we need to discuss with you,” Khan says before the man reaches the door. He looks at Stiles. 

The younger man takes a deep breath before he stands. “You should probably sit down,” he looks between Jorah and Daenerys, “both of you.”

Daenerys seems torn between obeying and going another round with them but in the end, her curiosity wins. She nods slowly and moves to a chair. She sits with her back straight and her chin up. “Very well, go on.”

Stiles smiles tightly and spares a quick glance towards Khan. “So I’m… not… totally human.” He starts off very awkwardly, obviously bracing himself for whatever reaction he’ll get.

Jorah shifts nervously on his feet. The stubborn man had refused to sit and instead stood by Daenerys’ side. “You look human to me,” he says cautiously.

Daenerys tilts her head slightly. “Some say the Targaryens are not completely human, care to explain further?” 

“That’s actually, not a bad analogy.” The man says with visible relief. He looks at Jorah with a small smirk. “And I look human, most of the time anyway.”

Jorah cocks an eyebrow up. “And the other times?”

“That’s kinda why I asked you to sit down,” Stiles chuckles nervously, another glance towards Khan. “It can be a bit startling without any warning. And I didn’t want you to stab me.” He aims a not so subtle glance towards the way Jorah’s hand is resting on the pommel of his sword.

Daenerys catches on, she twists in her seat to glare up at the knight. She places a small hand on Jorah’s sword arm. “Sit. He’s our friend, if he meant us harm he would have done so in the desert.”

Khan watches with amusement as the older man bows his head wordlessly before awkwardly sitting down next to the young Khaleesi. The knight closes his hands together over his lap a little stiffly then looks back towards Stiles. From this angle, it looks like Jorah feels some remorse over his action.

Once everyone’s attention is back on him, the Ushgul stops fidgeting. He puts his hands on his hips, carefully studying his audience before throwing his hands up. “No point beating around the bush, I'll just have to show you.”

Khan keeps his attention mostly on Daenerys' and Jorah’s reactions, he’s seen the transformation a few times but how they react to it will tell them a lot about their new friends. Danny seems fascinated by it, no fear at all, Jorah however lost all color to his face, and his sword hand twitches.

“Think of him as an overgrown puppy,” Khan breaks the silence that follows. 

Stiles snorts, he looks towards Khan with mock offense. “That’s not fair, I’m totally house broken.”

There’s a strangled noise from Daenerys before she starts laughing behind her hand. “It is.” She coughs and lowers her hand. “Very intimidating.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” One glowing blue eye winks before Stiles’ expression softens. “You doing alright Jorah?” He waves a hand over himself. “I know this is… a lot to take in but I’m still me. Just with a few extra perks.”

Jorah slowly stands and approaches Stiles, he squints at the Ushgul’s face then looks down at his hands. “I have to admit,” the knight says, and swallows thickly. “If you had shown up like this in the desert I would’ve tried to run you through.” He looks back at the Ushgul’s face and locks eyes with him. “But now, I only see my friend. It will take some getting used to though, me being the prettier one now.” 

Stiles chortles with a shake of head. He smacks Jorah on the shoulder with enough casual strength that the knight wobbles a bit. “You were getting all sweet on me and then you go and ruin it.” He tuts. “Besides, we all know Khan is the prettiest one here.”

Khan grins as he finds himself to be genuinely amused. “And don’t you ever forget it,” he says. It’s strange but he is starting to feel some affection for these people. “There’s more,” he says, jerking his head as a signal to Stiles to go on. 

“Right.” The Ushgul nods then bounces back on his heels. He blows out a breath and makes his way back to his seat next to Khan. “I’m called an Ushgul, a shapeshifter.” The lupine features begin to recede after Stiles flops himself down into the cushion. “Most of the time I have full control over my appearance. Except every 28 days, my body locks itself into my wolf form for a day and a night.” He leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees and looks at Daenerys. “It’s my body’s way of renewing itself but it’s also… emotionally challenging. I’m sure you can imagine what that’s like?” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Your Dragon awakens,” the girl says with a smirk. “So, the hunt that lasted a day and a night, was it?” She pauses meaningfully.

Khan’s eyebrow twitches. Maybe she has more wits about her than he gave her credit for. “Yes, he was...having his moment.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Anyway…” He leans back into his seat. “That means we have 23 days until what we call Shift Day. As long as I’ve got a quiet spot to hide, or a hunt to keep myself busy, there shouldn’t be any issues. A large cloak and some hide gloves would help me keep a low profile.” He turns to Khan with a thoughtful expression before looking back to Daenerys. “You should also know that my senses are very good. I can hear most everyone on this floor, right now. I’m strong enough to rip a man apart with my bare hands. Among my people, I’m rather average, a beta. Alphas though, they’re on a different level. My alpha also happens to be my husband.” He stops to blow out a breath. “Before we were separated we could talk to each other using our minds, even over long distances. Since our arrival in Essos, he’s been out of range until that night in the desert. I was able to talk to him in a waking dream, our husbands somehow landed in Westeros.”

Daenerys nods. “Then our paths will be parallel for longer than I thought,” she says and smiles shily. “Will you keep traveling with me until you find them?”

“We will,” Khan says. “For as long as our circumstances allow us to.”

Jorah clears his throat. “And what of you, pretty man? Any...secrets there we should know about?”

Khan grins. “I’m a hundred percent human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> A huge thank you to all you wonderful readers who've subscribed, kudo'd, bookmarked, and commented!
> 
> As always, questions and comments are very welcome :D
> 
> Until next time!


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! To make up for our absence, here's a double feature beefcake of a chapter XD Happy holidays folks!
> 
> There's a trigger warning for this chapter, focused around a panic attack. The section has been marked off with an asterisk, we'll give an abbreviation of the events in the end notes.

**Chapter 7**

  
  


Peter does his best to concentrate on the ocean breeze as he and Riddick follow quietly behind Catelyn. She’d insisted at the beginning of their four day journey south that they call her by her first name, at least in private. It suited Riddick and him just fine, since they preferred to be less formal anyway. 

They’d all gotten to know each other a little better during those long days and nights. The trip hadn’t been spent just riding and chatting either, a considerable amount of time had been spent teaching the new female werewolf the extent of her new abilities.

Out of the three new wolves, the change had been most noticeable in the Stark widow. Catelyn’s hair had lost its few wisps of grey while her face and body had regained a more youthful vigor. Her grief was still visible on occasion, her face hardening to stone while her eyes glowed. Control, however, is something Lady Stark has in abundance and it had taken no time at all for her to master the change. She’d struggled more with the idea of learning to fight because she was a  _ Lady _ but neither Riddick or he would hear of it. Lady Stark had passion, fire even, but it was buried very deeply and at first she’d been rather afraid of it. In the end, they’d been the right teachers for her and Peter would bet money on her over any other human knight.

Now, as they follow Renly’s guards through the lively camp, he’s glad they spent time focusing on some senses over others. Peter’s not sure of the exact sizing of this king’s army but it’s more people than they’ve come across in their entire time here. Needless to say, the strong winds from the ocean are boon at the moment.

They trudge in silence, the camp gets louder the deeper they go. The alpha frowns at the soldiers they pass. All well fed and warm, no injured or dead, they sound like they’re having a grand time. He snorts, finally understanding why the Northerners dislike the Southern folks so much.

The two guards slow down as they come to a bend at the bottom of a hill. Peter’s face falls flat at the picture that greets them. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He mumbles with a significant eye roll towards Riddick on the left.

“I assume that the horny guy on the dais is Renly?” Riddick says, completely serious.

Peter snorts again, this time in amusement. “Yes, the one with the stag horns on his crown… The raised dais gives it away a bit more though.”

Catelyn turns her head to the side and speaks from the corner of her mouth. “You two do try to behave, we’re here to suggest an alliance after all.”

Peter’s lips twitch into a quick smile, from the corner of his eye he can see Riddick’s familiar cocky smirk. They each remain silent however, the guards are weaving them through the large ring of soldiers gathered around two armored fighters. The men cheer and yell with each blow.

Both fighters are talented, the smaller one is doing remarkably well despite the disparaging size difference of his opponent. When he lands a striking blow the brunette sitting next to the king stands and shouts  _ Highgarden  _ with such passion that Peter’s eyebrows go up. The oddly appreciative rumble from Riddick catches him completely off guard. He chuckles wryly. “New queen looks rather bloodthirsty.”

“She can take a bite outta me any time,” Riddick says with a crooked grin. 

Peter shakes his head with a low chuckle then hums in agreement. He’s gotta admit, she’s got a certain wild look about her he finds almost charming. His attention goes back to the sound of a hard blow, the crowd roars up thinking the smaller fighter is winning. He makes a clicking sound at the back of his throat before leaning towards Riddick. “My money’s on the woman. You?”

Riddick eyeballs the fighters. “Oh yeah, little man never stood a chance.”

Catelyn turns with a bemused look on her face. “What? What woman are you speaking of?” She looks back at the fighters with a frown. 

Peter leans forward slightly to whisper in her ear. “The larger fighter is a woman. We’ll go over how to tell the difference tonight. For now just try to see if you can tell on your own.” He steps back just in time for the female fighter to tackle the other down. 

The crowd goes suddenly quiet. “She’s quick too, bet no one saw that dagger.” He comments more to himself but also for Cat’s benefit. 

Riddick and he share a chuckle shortly after the smaller man yields. The way he scrambles away isn’t very dignified and they chuckle a little harder.

Renly claps once the small man gains his footing, his queen slowly sitting down with a stunned expression. “Well fought.” The king announces with a softer tone than expected, he waves the winner over. “Approach.”

She marches forward, her gait not showing the same grace she had during the fight. Even the way she kneels seems out of sort. By the expression on Renly’s face though, the man had actually expected this. “Rise. Remove your helm.” The woman hesitates, understandably so given the shocked gasps that ring around them when she reveals herself with shortly cropped flaxen hair. “You are all your father promised and more, my lady. I’ve seen Ser Loras bested once or twice, but never quite in that fashion.”

“Now, now, my love. My brother fought valiantly for you.” The young queen at his side scolds him playfully.

Renly looks at her with a smile that looks genuine and yet also not. There’s something more going on there. “That he did, my queen,” he says and raises his voice for his next words. “But there can only be one champion! Brienne of Tarth, you may ask anything of me you desire. If it is within my power, it is yours.” The way the man speaks almost reminds Peter of a bad school play, where the actors are kids with barely memorised lines.

The large woman, Brienne, kneels and bows her head, then looks up confidently. “Your Grace, I ask the honour of a place in your Kingsguard.” The crowd around them erupts into murmured jeers and disapproving exclamations but Brienne goes on undeterred. “I will be one of your seven, pledge my life to yours, and keep you safe from all harm.”

King Renly stares at her a moment then smiles. “Done!” he says and his smile grows. “Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard.” The King begins clapping as Brienne stands and the crowd hesitantly follows his lead. 

Catelyn shoots a distinct ‘enough nonsense’ look at one of their escorts and the man quickly moves forward. “Your Grace, I have the honour to bring you Lady Catelyn Stark, sent as an envoy by her son Robb, Lord of Winterfell.”

“Lord of Winterfell and King in the North,” Cat corrects the guard sternly.

“Lady Catelyn. I’m pleased to see you,” Renly says with true warmth then gestures at the woman next to him. “May I present my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell.”

The two women bow their heads respectfully at each other. “And I introduce my two escorts, Lord Hale and Lord Riddick,” she hesitates but chooses to remain silent. Peter hadn’t expected that at all and does his best to bury his surprise, hoping Riddick can do the same.

“You are very welcome here, Lady Stark, my Lords,” Margaery says with feeling. Her expression turns sad. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Cat keeps her expression neutral and mildly respectful as she answers. “You are most kind.”

“My lady,” Renly says grandly. “I swear to you I will see the Lannisters answer for your husband’s murder. When I take King’s Landing, I’ll bring you Joffrey’s head.”

The crowd erupts into cheers but Cat seems very unimpressed. Not that Peter could blame her, this whole thing is a show and a ridiculous one at that. 

“It will be enough to know that justice was done, my lord.”

“Your Grace,” Brienne corrects her curtly. “And you should kneel when you approach the king.”

Riddick leans close to Peter and whispers. “I should take her to Khan’s court, he’ll love her.”

Peter smiles and nods in agreement. Brienne reminds him a lot of Tasha.

“There’s no need for that,” Renly says quickly. “Lady Stark is an honoured guest.”

“Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?” The blonde knight rudely jumps in the conversation from behind them.

“I do not sit on my son’s war councils.” Cat says with barely any patience left. “And if I did, I would not share his strategies with you.”

“If Robb Stark wants a pact with us, he should come himself, not hide behind his mother’s skirts,” the knight insists, obviously trying to save some face and picking the wrong way to do it.

“My son is  _ fighting  _ a war, not  _ playing  _ at one,” Cat snaps at him as if she’s speaking to a child.

Riddick turns and looks at the young knight. “And someone is begging to have his ass handed to him by yet another woman.”

Peter chuffs in agreement but his eyes study the puffed blonde, Ser Loras, carefully. His gaze shifts to the king and queen and back again, there’s a piece of information here. 

The king steps in before another fight breaks out, he makes his way down from the dais. All smiles and mild mannered as he approaches the woman who could now literally rip his head off if she felt like it. “Don’t worry, my lady.” Renly pauses at Cat’s side, this time with a small cocky smile. “Our war is just beginning.” He motions for her to follow without another word. The men around him quiet down as they leave to mingle amongst themselves.

Peter studies the queen, still sitting at the dais in confusion. She’s staring at her brother, the knight standing in the empty dirt circle with a sour expression on his face. He turns to follow Cat, Riddick following only after aiming a disgruntled grunt towards Loras.

The clang of the new Kingsguard’s armor resonates behind them and Brienne comes stomping around to put herself between the two strange men and her king. She doesn’t even spare them a glance as she passes.

Peter looks at Riddick and concentrates.  _ Ever meet a Klingon female? _

“No,” Riddick says in a lowered voice. “I’ve met a few women that were tough as nails, but none as big as her.” 

“Not many human women like that anywhere in the galaxy honestly.” He answers with a whisper. Telepathic communication with Riddick isn’t exactly smooth or easy, it takes a lot of effort for just a few words to come through. In a pinch though, a word is sometimes more than enough.

They’ve cleared the fighting arena now and are heading back the way they’d arrived. Shortly after rounding the corner, Renly pauses to chat with a soldier. The man’s limp and the conversation that follows makes Peter wince in sympathy; having your toes crushed by a horse isn’t a thing he ever wants to experience. The exchange says a lot about this young self appointed king though. His manner is different but he cares for his men’s well being just as much as Robb does. It’s a good sign for the talks to come.

“I have a hundred thousand men at my command.” Renly offers suddenly after the soldier moves on. “All the might of the Stormlands and the Reach.”

Lady Stark’s response is rather in line with Peter’s own thoughts on the matter. “And all of them young and bold like your Knight of Flowers?” She pauses, studying the man strolling leisurely at her side. “It’s a game to you, isn’t it? I pity them.”

“Why?” Renly asks, genuinely curious.

“Because it won’t last. Because they are the knights of summer and winter is coming.” The Lady’s words are solemn and heavy with grief as she stops her steps, forcing the king to turn towards her.

A tense moment passes, it’s clear to him that Cat’s words have cut through the cocky man’s veneer. “Brienne, escort Lady Catelyn to her tent. She’s tired from her journey.”

Catelyn doesn’t object, only giving them a steely gaze to let it slide.

Brienne’s answer is as eager as expected. “At once, Your Grace. Shall I return after?”

Renly, whose earlier cheerful mood has soured, turns away. “That won’t be necessary.” He marches back down the hill quickly, not exactly running away but if the boot fits… “I would pray awhile. Alone!” The king yells over his shoulder at the guards attempting to follow him.

Brienne looks down briefly as she passes the shorter woman. “If you’ll follow me, my lady.” 

Catelyn smiles tightly as she follows. “You fought bravely today, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne slows her footsteps. “I fought for my king.” She states matter factly. “Soon I’ll fight for him on the battlefield. Die for him if I must.” Every word is spoken with surety, Peter doesn’t need to be a werewolf to know she believes every word she speaks. The tall woman stops and finally takes a good look at Lady Stark. “And, if it please you, Brienne’s enough. I’m no lady.”

* * *

Riddick left Peter with Cat back at the tent to bond further over their wolf-stuff while he takes a moment to explore the camp. He had already done so once, during the night, but it was different during the day, when all the wannabe warriors were up and about. It was early afternoon when he began hearing whispers about a Lord Baelish making an appearance at the camp, some sneeringly called this lord ‘Little Finger’. The fact that he had requested an audience with Renly was enough to make Riddick think that this was something worth mentioning to Peter.

He makes his way back to the tent and ducks inside unannounced. Peter is sitting in a chair watching as Cat practices on controlling her shift. She spins around startled, fangs on display, when she senses Riddick behind her. 

“Need to work on that some more,” Riddick says with a grin.

“Perhaps if someone didn’t walk around on cat paws,” Cat says indignantly, retracting her fangs.

“Meow?” Riddick says. He has seen a few of the creatures they call cats here, they were nothing like the Raptor Cats he knew and from whose claws his favorite knives were made of. He rather likes these smaller cats, they seemed cute but could also be so vicious. “Speaking of kitties,” he says and removes his goggles to look at Peter with a smirk. “I need your ears for something.” 

Peter rises from his seat, his amused smirk vanishing. “Is that so?”

“A Lord Baelish, they also call him Little Finger, came into camp. Asked for an audience with the horny king.” 

Peter starts to sigh but Cat’s growl catches them both off guard. “That traitor!” She takes a step towards the tent’s exit and the alpha has to step in her way.

“Cat!” Peter speaks sternly, like he’s scolding the older woman. “It’s the middle of the day and we’re surrounded by thousands of soldiers. Think.” 

She stiffens, lips pulling into a mulish frown.

Riddick tilts his head, interesting. “Friend of yours?” He puts his goggles back on and looks outside. “I think he has gained that audience so we don’t have a lot of time here.” 

The woman calms down a bit and goes back to her seat. “We,” she stops and frowns, “I thought he was our friend. He was supposed to look after Ned but he betrayed us.” She clenches her jaw before turning away to stare into the fire. “He’s the Master of Coin on the king’s council, owns most of the brothels in King’s Landing.” The last part is spoken with great disgust.

Riddick looks at Cat and then at Peter. “Why don’t you go ahead,” he says and moves further in the tent. “I’ll stay with Cat.”

* * *

Peter settles himself with a bowl of stew near one of the many braisers around the camp. With such a large army packed so tightly together, there’s hardly an empty square foot anywhere. He angles his body towards a small table occupied by a few gambling soldiers. For anyone walking by, Peter is just another face among many.

Renly’s tent entrance is visible from the corner of his eye, one of the king’s personal golden guards stands at its entrance. The man standing there in wait is no doubt Lord Baelish. A cursory glance is more than enough to confirm what he already knows of the man, he’s got smarmy little bastard written all over him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite whoremonger.” Renly’s voice calls out from behind Peter and he dips his head down slightly. The king, followed by his usual entourage, stroll past him without taking notice. “Pray I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

“Your Grace.” Lord Baelish barely offers a bow and his smile disappears the moment Renly’s back is turned. He follows Renly inside the tent.

Peter relaxes his posture once more, bored mask firmly in place. So far however, he’s very entertained. Renly’s unexpected, and very open, dislike for the man who betrayed Cat’s family is a pleasant surprise.

“Now you do the Lannisters’ bidding, is that it?” There’s a short pause. “Tell me, was my brother’s body even cold before you secured your newest patron?”

“I’m a practical man,” Lord Baelish replies with confidence. It’s not even a lie, whoever this Little Finger is; he’s extremely confident in himself. Peter can practically smell it from outside the tent.

“Just not a loyal one.” Renly’s tone is mocking.

“And who would you have me be loyal to?” Lord Baelish counters without emotion. “Your brother’s corpse?”

The werewolf snorts without meaning too and quickly covers it with a cough.

“I don’t like you, Lord Baelish,” Renly says, his voice is calm but his disgust at the other man slowly sips in as he goes on. “I don’t like your face. I don’t like the words that come oozing out of your mouth. I don’t want you in my tent one minute more than necessary. So tell me, why are you here?” Another short pause. “You can trust Brienne.  _ Her  _ loyalty comes without charge.”

The insults were flying fast and low between these two. It made Peter wonder at their history. 

A longer pause follows, Lord Baelish is probably contemplating his next words. “You still have many friends at court, Your Grace, many who believe Ned Stark erred by not supporting your claim.” Ah, there’s the first lie of the day.

“Now I understand,” Renly cuts in arrogantly. “You know I have the numbers. You know I’m marching on King’s Landing. When I take the throne, you hope to retain your position. And your head.”

“I would give priority to my head,” Lord Baelish replies smoothly. “I understand that you don’t like me, and while that saddens me greatly, I did not come here today seeking your affection. When you march on King’s Landing, you may find yourself facing a protracted siege or…open gates.”

* * *

Peter is about to call it a day and circle back to his shared tent when Little Finger’s footsteps come to a stop. The man stops in front of the brazier to warm his hands. There’s something about the way Baelish glances around that piques his curiosity. 

The alpha keeps walking a little further, coming to a stop at a fire pit further ahead. He’s still close enough that he hears the uptick in Baelish’s heartbeat. A quick glance reveals the new queen and her brother walking this way. Though the brother doesn’t stay long, the siblings part ways, Loras going towards the king’s tent while Margaery appears to be headed elsewhere. It doesn’t take long for her path to cross with Little Finger’s. 

“Your Grace.” The lord’s greeting is light and innocent but that’s the last thing Peter is picking up from the man’s scent.

“Lord Baelish.” The queen’s answer sounds just as casual, though she doesn’t stop walking. For some reason, Peter gets a touch of amusement from her. 

The dark haired man follows her, matching his pace to the young queen’s before he feigns embarrassment. “All of these tents look the same to me. Would you be so kind…” 

“It would be my pleasure.” Margery smiles, giving the impression that she isn’t bothered or suspicious of the lord at her side. “It took me weeks to learn my way around the camp.” The pair pass him while he’s facing the fire, “Twice I walked in on officers in stages of undress.” The queen’s statement is cooly delivered with a playful edge and Peter likes this queen a little more. He doubts those had been accidental incidents. “And the moment I learn which tent is mine, we’re on the move again.” The last bit sounds genuinely putout though.

“ _ Your _ tent, not  _ our _ tent?” Little Finger’s tone is just skirting the edge of mocking. “The king snores, perhaps? Or simply prefers solitude? Pressures of command, no doubt. Four kings vying for the throne.” 

Peter rolls his eyes before he moves away from the fire. This lord is playing it rather fast and loose in his opinion. He keeps his face tilted mostly upward, enjoying the starlight lit sky as he walks. His attention however is entirely focused on the conversation unfolding a few paces ahead of him.

“I am not tutored in warfare, but basic arithmetic favours the side with the greater numbers.” It’s a good parry, Peter smirks, Margeary’s wit is as sharp as her bloodthirst.

“If war were arithmetic, the mathematicians would rule the world. I did notice your brother entering His Grace’s tent just now.” Little Finger is obviously used to being given the brush off. Instead of backing down however, Baelish seems intent on adding fuel to the fire. 

Strangely, to Peter’s surprise this is what makes the queen’s heartbeat falter. “The place of a Kingsguard is by the king’s side.”

Lord Baelish’s next words finally give the alpha the last piece of the puzzle. “And on the night of your wedding, who was by the king’s side then?”

Oh, Riddick was going to have a field day with this. 

Interestingly enough, Margeary’s heartbeat steadies. “You seem quite interested in our marriage.” 

“Your marriage is quite interesting. Not only to me, but to the realm.

The marriage of a wealthy girl always breeds interest, if nothing else.” Little Finger’s retort is barely passable.

“You’ve never married, have you?” The queen asks after a moment.

The question causes bitterness to waft in the air despite the coolness of the answer. “I’ve been unlucky in my affections, sadly.”

“That is sad.” Margeary’s tone has so far remained civil if anything but there’s a change when she stops to face the uppity lord. “Though perhaps it’s for the best. The whole notion of marriage seems to confuse you, so allow me to explain. My husband is my king, and my king is my husband.” It’s clear she’s done with him and she extends her hand towards a small dark red canopy. “Here is your tent, Lord Baelish. Good night.”

Having been summarily dismissed, Baelish has the good sense to bow before disappearing into his tent. The queen sighs softly, taking a moment to straighten her dress before she turns to head in a different direction. 

Peter smirks when he realizes the queen’s route is the same as his own. He detours around a few tents, moving quickly when no one is watching and slows back to a casual pace just as Margaery steps into view. “Your Grace.” His smile pulls a little more to the side at the startled yelp the woman makes.

She recovers from her surprise quickly, a slim eyebrow raising up while she examines him. “Lord Hale,” Margaery regards him with a curious purse of lips. “Are you lost as well my lord?”

The alpha shakes his head, he matches his strides with the queen and tries not to smirk at her  _ interest _ . Peter wonders if she noticed him spying on them earlier or if she’s talking about herself. “I’ve a good sense of direction, your Grace, are you lost?” He suspects it’s the latter.

To his surprise, the girl snorts. “Tell me, are you like Lord Baelish and merely curious about my marriage or were you following me for a different reason.” Margaery gives him a predatory smile.

Peter laughs, he likes this girl. In a way she reminds him of Stiles and he decides to reward her boldness with honesty. “I was actually following Lord Baelish,” he chuckles at the look she gives him. “Surely you know his role in Ned Stark’s betrayal?”

“Ah,” The queen exclaims, “What is it that you hope to accomplish here, my lord?" She doesn’t change her pace once, but her playful demeanor has vanished.

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of delivering any sort of  _ justice _ without the king’s approval. We're here to form an alliance afterall.” Peter answers calmly. “Though I imagine your husband wouldn’t be saddened should he have reason to part Baelish’s head from the rest of him.”

Margaery makes a small laughing sound at the back of her throat but covers it quickly. “Is there?” She stops for the first time and turns to face Peter. “A reason that is, for the King to suspect Lord Baelish deserves the King’s Justice?”

“I could tell you Lord Baelish isn’t to be trusted but I believe that’s common knowledge.” He exchanges a brief knowing look with the young woman. “May I be frank with you, your Grace?”

The queen looks up with a sharp gaze. “Have you not been so thus far my lord?”

Again, the alpha has to make sure his mask of indifference doesn’t slip off completely. “I’m not from Westeros though I'm no stranger to politics and I have been through my fair share of wars. My allegiance may be to the North but its clear peace with the South is necessary. It’s true you have the numbers, Lady Stark was correct too however, most of these men are as green as summer grass. If they face the Lannisters on one front and the North on the other, you will lose and so will Westeros. Believe it or not, I don’t really give a shit about things like succession order and I admire your husband for seizing his moment.” 

“You’ve certainly given me a lot to consider,” Margaery turns to continue their walk through the camp. “I had wondered, how you came to be a Lord as I’d never heard your or your companion’s names before. Are you from Essos perhaps?”

Conveniently enough, Peter is saved from answering in finer detail since the tent he shares with Riddick and Cat is just coming into view. “No, we’re not from Essos. As for how we came to be part of King Stark’s bannerman.” He motions up ahead. “Alas your Grace, that thrilling tale will have to wait another time.” 

“It appears so.” There’s a bit of disappointment in her voice. “Perhaps Lady Stark as well as yourself and Lord Riddick would like to join me tomorrow to break your fasts?”

“I’m certain that can be arranged your Grace.” Peter pauses mid stride, he looks behind him before looking forward again with a frown. Somehow, Little Finger has looped around and is about to enter the tent. There’s a small cart stopped near the side of the entrance, two women dressed in grey robes keep watch.

“Those are the Silent Sisters.” Margaery speaks quietly, there’s a seriousness to her tone that surprises him. She continues after a moment. “They care for the dead. I believe Lady Stark will be in need of some support,” The queen curtsies, “Good night Lord Hale, I hope to see you in the morrow.” 

“Good night your Grace.” Peter bows a little, watching the young woman double back. Her quick pace taking her back in the direction of the king’s tent. He takes a moment to consider what he should do. If he barges in now, there’s less chance Cat will rip Baelish apart. On the other hand, Riddick is in there as well.

Mind made up Peter steps to the side before the  _ Sisters _ notice him. He concentrates his hearing on the conversation within while he approaches the tent from the back. Maybe if they’re lucky, Baelish will feel just as chatty as he had with the queen and reveal his hand without Peter needing to step in.

* * *

Riddick moves the tent’s opening just a fraction to look outside but it's not Peter he sees coming towards them. “Your friend, tiny finger, is coming,” he tells Cat.

“Here?” Cat asks with a growl.

Riddick looks at her and sure enough, the Lady has her brand new and shiny fangs out. He grins at her. “Yeah, here. Can you control yourself long enough for Peter to make it back?”

“He  _ betrayed  _ us!” she growls, shifting even more.

Riddick stalks further into the tent. “You want your kids alive or not?” That stops her growling short. “He has information Peter can extract, I doubt Peter can do that from a dismembered corpse.”

“Then,” she says, her face turning to normal with some difficulty. “What do you suggest?”

Riddick shrugs. “Just act as human Lady Stark would act. Peter shouldn’t be gone much longer and I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Cat nods. “I’ll try my best.”

Riddick smiles, removes his goggles and retreats into a dark corner of the tent to blend in with the shadows there. Cat takes a breath and goes to sit at her desk, she pretends to look down at some papers, though they both hear the little Lord enter the tent, uninvited. Cat waits until he is almost standing over her before she glares up at him.

“How dare you?” she says with barely controlled anger and rises. Though Riddick is proud to see that the Lady remains in human form.

“You may have heard false reports,” Lord Baelish says quickly, holding his hands out passively. 

“You betrayed Ned,” she says coldly.

“Betrayed? I wanted him to serve as Protector of the Realm. I begged him to seize the moment!” Lord Baelish says quickly and passionately. One problem though, he can’t hold eye contact with Cat as he does so. Riddick smirks, this guy definitely took a shit in the Stark’s nest.

“I trusted you. My husband trusted you,” Cat says stalking up to the Lord. She is still in human form however so Riddick remains where he is. “And you repaid our faith with treachery!”

Lord Baelish shakes his head. “No, my lady.”

“Get out!” Cat snaps and quickly turns away. Her eyes glow yellow for a moment.

“Cat, I’ve…I’ve loved you since I was a boy.” Lord Baelish says, moving closer. “It seems to me that fate has given us this chance to-” 

He grabs her arm as he speaks and Riddick’s muscles coil, ready to jump in, but Cat’s claws remain sheathed as she turns, instead she pulls out a dagger.

“Have you lost your mind?” she yells at the man, brandishing the dagger between them. “Get out!”

Lord Baelish backs away slowly. He is surprised and almost hurt by her rejection but Riddick can clearly see that hurt turn into bitterness almost instantly as the man speaks again. “Do you want to see your girls again?” He knows he has Cat’s attention now and his confidence grows. “Sansa, more beautiful than ever? And Arya, just as wild as ever?”

“You have Arya, too?” Cat asks and glances briefly towards the shadows Riddick is lurking in.

Lord Baelish doesn’t notice and keeps trying to manipulate Cat. “Both girls are healthy and safe… For now. But you know the queen and you know Joffrey. I fear for their longevity if they remain in the capital.”

Cat lowers the dagger. “What do you want?”

Lord Baelish once more steps forward. “The Lannisters will trade your daughters for the Kingslayer.”

Cat snorts. “Of course they will! Jaime Lannister for two girls? Robb will never agree to those terms.”

“I’m not bringing these terms to him,” Lord Baelish says with a conspiratory tone that makes Riddick want to shake his head. “I’m bringing them to you.”

“You think I keep secrets from my son?”

“Robb has surprised them all with his skills in battle, but he’s not a mother. Consider it, Cat. You may not get another chance.” It is clear that tiny finger thinks he has her with that last part. His expression is barely hiding his smugness as he takes a few steps back. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

“I don’t want your gifts,” Cat says, once more turning away. Her eyes search the shadows Riddick is concealed in. He angles his head as Lord Baelish turns his back to allow the light to catch his eyes and show her that he’s still there, though he suspects the look had more to do with her having enough than wondering if he was still there.

“A token of Tyrion Lannister’s goodwill,” Lord Baelish says grandly as he walks to the tent’s entrance to guide two women inside. “He wants you to understand that this exchange of prisoners is offered in good faith.” The women are dressed like nuns and carry a chest between them, which they lower gently to the floor. The women bow briefly at Cat and leave without a word.

“Good faith?” Cat says sarcastically but her curiosity wins. “What’s this?”

Riddick slowly moves along the tent’s edges, keeping to the shadows as he silently makes his way to the entrance. He peels it back slightly to look outside. The women are leaving, there’s no one else outside.

The pause behind him drags on too long and he turns to see what’s going on. Cat is staring at the chest, her breath shallow and a look of foreboding on her face. She slowly approaches the chest and kneels down in front of it, lifting the lid with shaky hands. She looks inside and her proud mask crumbles to grief.

“Your husband was an honourable man,” Lord Baelish says and Riddick’s eyes narrow with anger. He has a good guess of what's in the box and he is tempted to snap the man’s neck himself, but they've put up with him this long and Peter should be back any moment now.

Lord Baelish’s next words confirm his suspicions. “He should rest beside his family in the crypts beneath Winterfell.” He tries to step closer once more, but so is Riddick, who quietly moves to stand right behind the Lordling. “You may not believe…” Lord Baelish begins.

“Get out,” Cat says, her voice trembling with grief. She looks up at Lord Baelish and her eyes flash yellow. “Get out!”

Tiny finger backs away in a panic and bumps against Riddick’s chest. The small man turns quickly around to look at him with open shock.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Riddick growls and decks him.

There’s a rustle of fabric and Peter appears from the very back of the tent. “About damn time.” The wolf huffs as he makes a straight line for Cat. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You did well.”

“We were waiting for you,” Riddick growls. “What took you so long?”

“Had a little chat with her Grace, figured a few things out.” He guides Cat to a chair before turning back to the unconscious man on the ground. “We’re invited to breakfast by the way.” Peter smirks briefly then sighs. “This guy lies about as easily as he breathes, not easy to pick out truth from fiction with him. But he lied about Arya, they don’t have her.”

“Yeah,” Riddick says, still a bit annoyed and wanting to kick the man, even unconscious. “I figured you could do your mind reading thing on him and sift through that shit.” 

Peter grunts. “It’s not exactly my idea of a good time but it’ll be faster than a standard interrogation.” He gives Riddick a raised eyebrow and bends down to flip Baelish onto his stomach. “It’s amazing the amount of regs I’ve broken since this started.” He shakes his head then looks up. “The shock might wake him, get ready to pin him.”

Riddick pops his knuckles. “With pleasure,” he says and kneels down, one knee on the prone man’s back, his hands on the man’s frail shoulders. “Ready when you are, Kitty.” He presses down more firmly as Peter kneels by the Lord’s head and flicks his fingers as his claws appear. Not for the first time Riddick wishes he had those too, handy to have built in weapons. The claws dig into the back of the Lordling’s neck and he wakes with a gasp. Riddick kneels on him harder and even though his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, Lord Baelish is unable to move more than a fraction.

Riddick looks up as Cat approaches, ice in her eyes as she looks down at Lord Baelish. “I hope that really hurts,” she hisses.

“I’m sure it does, my Lady,” Riddick says and smiles at her surprised blink. “When Peter is done, maybe he’ll let you kick him around a bit.”

Cat’s smile is predatory. “One can only hope, Lord Riddick.” 

There’s a loud hiss from Peter and the wolf staggers back. As before it takes him a few moments to get his bearings right. He wanders over to the fire and sits in his usual chair with a weary huff. “If he wasn’t such a petty entitled little shit, I’d admire his patience and planning.” Peter waves them over with one hand and massages his temple with the other. "There was also a time when I would have just killed him and been done with it. Unfortunately, we still need the little weasel for leverage."

Riddick looks down at Lord Baelish, the man is out cold again. He nods at Cat as he rises and they go to join Peter by the fire. “What did you find out?”

“Arya is missing.” He looks at Cat seriously when she gasps. “The fact that all of the Lannisters are looking for her and haven’t found her is a good sign. There’s bigger problems than that still.” Peter looks over to the unconscious lord with a scowl before he goes back to Cat. The look on his face says he doesn’t have good news. “You were right, he did betray you and in more ways than you’d imagine. This has been a plan years in the making, that man has been arranging the downfall of the Starks and the Tullies since you married Ned. All of this is a direct result of Little Finger’s delusion that if he got enough power, he would get you.” 

“That little snake!” Cat exclaims. “And to think I felt sorry for him. I should’ve let Brandon kill him that day!” 

Peter shakes his head. “And if you had, no doubt your sister would have betrayed you sooner.” He raises his hand to stop Cat from interrupting him again. “She was in love with him from the beginning, Lysa conspired with Baelish to murder John Arryn. She will dance to whatever tune he sings for her, even if that means your death and that of your family. Even the Lannisters played an unwitting part in this, Tyrion wasn’t even responsible for the attack on Bran, Joffrey was… From what I can tell, Tyrion is the only sensible Lannister of the bunch. If it wasn’t for the dwarf, we’d have to make haste to King’s Landing for Sansa… As it is. I’m worried about what will happen to her in the meantime.” The wolf pushes himself out of his chair to stand in front of the fire. “He was meant to bring Ned's remains to Robb, us being here only played out in his favor. He's double dealing everyone, wrecking havoc while there’s a war to distract. If we want that treaty with Renly, we need to find a way to convince him that Baelish is at least responsible for Lord Arryn’s death.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Khan leans against a column while Daenerys paces before the grand stairs inside the Spice King’s manor. The girl has no patience but Khan isn’t the one to judge her for that, he is a rather impatient man himself, he’s just much better at hiding it. He can sense Xaro giving him sour looks but chooses to ignore the big man. It's no secret that Xaro wants to gain Danny’s trust, something made impossible with either Stiles or him around her constantly. With Jorah away looking for a ship they had to divide and conquer. Stiles remained behind to watch over the dragons, and Khan, as the most skilled in politics of the cutthroat type, escorted Danny. He looks over at Rakharo, Danny’s only other guard. The Dothraki man winks at him and smiles. Khan offers a brief smile back before he turns his attention to Daenerys once more.

“He shouldn’t make me wait,” she snaps as she passes by Xaro.

“The Spice King is the second wealthiest man in Qarth. He makes everyone wait. Of course, you could have avoided this embarrassment if you married the wealthiest man in Qarth.”

Khan rolls his eyes at the man’s words. When someone has real power they don’t need to resort to such tricks to prove a point, he’d make sure to explain that to Danny as well. Her reaction however isn’t far from his own.

“I already have a husband.”

“Khal Drogo is gone, Khaleesi. You are far too young to be a widow forever and far too beautiful.”

At first it seems like he is getting to her, then her eyes meet Khan’s and she practically snorts with derision at Xaro. “And you are far too smart to think that I will succumb to flattery.”

“I have travelled very far in my life and met many women, but none that are immune to flattery.”

Khan pushes off the column and approaches Daenerys as his ears pick up more people than expected heading their way. He looks at Xaro as he walks in front of him to get to the queen. “You obviously didn’t travel far enough,” he tells the man with a small smirk. “They are coming, Khalessi,” he whispers at Danny.

“The Mother of Dragons!”

“Here he comes,” Xaro says as the round man appears huffing and puffing at the top of the stairs with a train of servants behind him.

“Forgive me. I had terrible dreams last night. Terrible dreams,” the man says, his movements theatrical. “I could not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing.” He leers at Danny. “Look what a beauty you are now that the Red Waste has been washed off of you. I am sorry about all that unpleasantness.” He comes further down the stairs but can’t resist the insult of remaining a few steps above them. “The silver hair of a true Targaryen. Xaro Xhoan Daxos, she is far too lovely for a glorified dockworker like yourself.”

“Very true,” Xaro says with some amusement, “and yet they say that your grandfather, who sold pepper off the back of a wagon, married a lady far lovelier and higher born than himself.”

“Every lady alive was lovelier and higher born than my grandfather.” He looks at Danny who is practically boiling over with rage. “Did my servants not offer you something to eat, to drink? I’ll have them flogged in the square!”

“Calm,” Khan whispers.

Danny hesitates a moment and collects herself. “Thank you, lord Schienthrad Ath'em'oull Rheuxang-che, you are a gracious host, but there is no servant alive that can bring me what I want.”

Khan tries to keep the smile from breaking on his lips. They had spent hours practicing the man’s name and she had nailed it. Khan almost felt proud for her.

“Oh,” Schienthrad exclaims, surprised, but covers it up quickly, “she has a talent for drama, this one. So, my little princess, what is it you want?”

“My birthright,” Danny says, taking a step forward. “The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

“I fear I’m no better than a servant in this regard. I cannot give you what I do not have,” Schienthrad says quickly, his tone mocking.

Danny squares her shoulders. “I would never expect a simple merchant to offer me a kingdom,” she says calmly, she also gives Xaro a glance that almost makes Khan grin. “It is your ships I want.”

“I need my ships. I use them, you see, to bring spices from one port to another.”

“I understand that, of course. What I offer you however is a powerful future ally. Once I sit on the Iron Throne, those who helped me will be the first to reap the benefits of my success.”

Schienthrad sighs, making it a point to appear as if he’s putting up with a child. “Let me explain my position, little princess. Unlike you, I do not have exalted ancestors. I make my living by trade. And I judge every trade on its merits. You ask for ships. You say I shall reap from the fruits of your success and I do not doubt your honesty or your intentions. But before you repay your debts, you must seize the Seven Kingdoms. Do you have an army?”

“Not yet.”

“You do not have an army. Do you have powerful allies in Westeros?”

“I do, but I shall not name them for their own protection.”

“Then why don’t your allies come to fetch you?” Schienthrad says with an expression as if he caught her in a lie.

“Revealing who they are too soon would endanger our long term plans,” Danny answers without hesitation.

Khan can hear her heart fluttering like a frightened little bird. She is lying through her teeth, they have yet to secure her allies, but these pompous asses didn’t need to know that. Khan had gone through every possible scenario with her over and over, he just has to trust her to handle it herself for now. It was obvious to him which version of their scenarios this one was turning out to be.

Schienthrad gives her a condescending look. “So, in truth, you have no allies.”

“Once more you call me a liar, lord Schienthrad. If I were you I’d be careful who I insult.”

“Ah. Forgive me, little princess, I meant no insult.” His smile says otherwise. “But I cannot make an investment based on wishes and dreams. Now if you’ll pardon me.” He turns and begins his laborious ascension of the stairs.

“I am not your little princess,” Danny hisses after him and Khan suppresses a groan. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of the blood of Old Valyria, and I will take what is mine. With fire and blood, I will take it!”

“Yes, my lady,” Schienthrad huffs, “but not with my ships.”

* * *

  
  
“I’m going to the kitchen to get some food for the dragons, and myself, you want anything?” Stiles asks Irri from the doorway. The young dothraki looks up from her spot by the table, a mountain of sewing work heaped at her side. She raises a slim brown brow his way and chuckles. “You eat more than three dragon babes, how are you so skinny?” Irri puts her sowing down when his answer is a smirk followed by a vague shoulder shrug. She gives him a patient smile, “I am fine, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” He says and gives the dragons a wave from the doorway before heading down the corridor. Stiles nods to Zorratto and Mattello once he reaches the bottom of the staircase. The dothraki men look up at the sound of his footsteps.

“Food again?” Mattello snorts and pats Stiles’ shoulder as he passes.

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves the older guard away as he keeps walking. “I’ll be back. Try not to steal anything while I’m gone!” Their laugh follows him across the terrace. The path from their section of the manse to the kitchens has become well known for Stiles, even the cooks don’t bother trying to chase him out anymore.

The mance is quiet today with most of the household out at the market, yet by the time Stiles nears the kitchen he can’t help slowing down for a minute. A frown creases his face as he concentrates, something's off. It’s too quiet. 

Slowly he approaches the main kitchen, peeking his head quickly before stepping out again. “What the…” There’s no one present. Alarm bells ring loudly in his head and he retraces his steps at a run. Xaro’s guards are nowhere to be seen.

A scream disturbs the eerie silence and is quickly followed by another. Stiles breaks out into a full run, shifting as he does. When he reaches the terrace, the men who had just been sharing a laugh with him are dead. He growls through clenched canines, a shadow flits by in his peripheral heading towards the garden and Stiles gives chase.

He comes around the corner just in time to witness another dothraki, one of the older women this time, getting her throat slit by the warlock. He shouts, though it’s pointless, she’s dead before she hits the ground. Stiles lunges, jumping the long distance between himself and the killer. 

The warlock gasps, his sword arching upwards just as Stiles collides with him. The blade grazes the beta’s side, a shallow cut that heals instantly and the sword clatters uselessly on the ground after the snap of its holder’s neck.

Stiles straightens up, adrenaline surging. He reaches to the cut over his ribs while looking down at the body beneath him. A faint sound catches his attention and he spins just in time to see another robbed figure right behind him. “The f-” The face is identical to the man he’s just killed.

Blue lips stretch over blue stained teeth. “What magic made you?” A shriveled hand reaches out. “No matter, it will make us even stronger.”

The wolf doesn’t answer, instead, he swings his claws out to slash at the extended arm. An acrid smell fills the air and the warlock steps back clutching his arm with a hiss. The fabric turns a dark blue rather than the expected shade of rusty brown. It’s not like Stiles' not used to seeing oddly coloured blood though, so while it makes him wonder about this world, it isn’t enough to keep him from advancing. 

Stiles reaches out, grabbing the warlock by the hem of his robe intent on snapping this one’s neck as well. More screams, this time from farther in the garden and also from the upper level catch his attention, making his head turn for an instant. “The dragons!” 

It proves to be a mistake, the distraction allows the warlock to reach into his robe. When Stiles turns back to finish the job he gets a facefull of purple powder and almost loses his grip. He coughs as he snaps the twig like neck, tears filling his eyes and he tries to spit out the small amount of powder that’s gotten in his mouth.

His steps are a bit staggered at first but he still manages to break out into a full run. His equilibrium seems to become more affected as he goes and Stiles needs to brace himself on the wall so he doesn’t trip on his way up the stairs. Whatever that powder had been it’s having an effect on him that’s a bit too reminiscent of wolfsbane for his liking. 

When he reaches the dragon room, after passing several bodies on the way, double vision is starting to set in. Stiles staggers with a roar, diving for a vague red shape and they crash into the table. The wood snaps under the impact, Stiles manages to roll to the side just in time to avoid another facefull of purple dust. 

Stiles uses a nearby chair for leverage, first to pull himself up before he flings it across the small space. The warlock, another clone of the first, shields himself and the chair shatters on impact.

Another warlock appears in the doorway, those blue lips a stark contrast to his pale flesh. Stiles is backed into a corner, every time he kills one another takes his place. His nose can’t pick up anything other than the acrid dust slowly poisoning him.

It’s been a long time since Stiles has had to do this, all he can do now is hope Khan will know what it means. The beta howls, long and hard until his lungs feel like they're going to burst.

Without waiting to properly catch his breath, Stiles dives at warlock number one. He’s hit with another blow of dust at the same time as his claws gut the man and the room goes black.

* * *

They are done with their third futile meeting with yet another of the 13 and Danny is fuming since the man offered a single ship under the condition that she lie with him for a night. Khan falls in next to her as they step out in the street, Xaro takes the other side. She turns to say something no doubt caustic to Xaro when an eerie, prolonged sound rises over the city.

Khan stops in his tracks. He'd be damned if that wasn’t a wolf’s howl. Without thinking he grabs Danny’s arm. “We must make haste!” he tells her. “It’s Stiles.”

She barely has time to nod her agreement before he drags her behind him. Her human legs can’t keep up with him however and if he pulls at her any faster he really  _ will  _ be dragging her behind him. He stops, swings her around and picks her up in his arms. “Oh,” is all she says as Khan takes off at full speed.

Xaro is yelling something behind them but Khan doesn’t care to stop and make sense of it, the big man’s voice fades away anyway, as Khan’s augmented legs carry them away faster than any human can hope to keep up with. He easily finds his way back to Xaro’s manor and sets Danny on her feet in front of the yard door. He hears nothing inside, no voices, no heartbeats. They look at each other before Khan pushes the door open to reveal a blood bath. Danny walks past him with a stunned look on her face as she looks at her massacred people. She glances back at him before taking off towards her room. Khan lets her go, there’s no one but them in the manor now, at least alive. He looks at the dead more carefully. He can’t tell what sort of attack would do this, they all seemed to have their throats slit, impossible, even if this was a surprise attack someone would’ve...Stiles. It clicks then and he rushes after Danny. Stiles should’ve sniffed out or heard anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Where are my dragons!” he hears her yell as he takes the stairs two at a time. The room is empty except for Danny and the prone form of Irri, her Dothraki servant. Danny is kneeling next to the girl but her eyes search for her dragons. “They killed her,” Danny says as she notices him.

Khan’s attention is hyper focused on any signs of Stiles. Broken furniture, their wood scored with claw marks speak of a vicious fight but there are no bodies, unless he counts Irri, which he doesn’t. The dark purplish splatters all around the room make things even more confusing. Khan wishes for the first time in his life that his sense of smell had been augmented as well, but unlike Stiles, he can’t tell what happened here by scent. There is however a faint smell in the air, almost like sulfur. He looks closer at the floor and sees patches of what appears to be purple dust. He kneels and runs a finger through it, bringing it to his nose, it's what gives off that sulfur smell. He rubs it between his fingers, it feels like grounded up plant matter. Some kind of poison? He picks a piece of torn cloth and collects some to study later.

He pockets the sample and stands. “Your servant is alive,” he tells Danny, his awareness finally catching up with his brain. “But barely.” The girl’s heartbeat is so faint he barely registered it over their own thundering heartbeats. He kneels down and gently pushes Danny back to check the girl. They had attempted to cut her throat like they did the others but for some reason botched it. There is still a lot of blood though and she is fading fast. He applies pressure to her wound and looks around for something to help him stop the blood. He looks down at the girl, even if he stops the bleeding now her chances are slim. “Danny, your knife, now.”

Danny pulls her knife from its sheath and hands it to him with shaky hands. “Are you...going to ease her way?” she asks with a small voice.

Khan shakes his head as he drags the blade along his forearm. He cuts deep enough for blood to flow down his arm to where he’s holding the girl’s neck. He lessens the pressure to allow his blood to flow into her wound for a bit then reapplies pressure.

“What are you doing?” Danny asks then gaps as she watches his wound close up and heal back into perfect skin. “You...said you were human.”

A groan from Irri saves him from having to explain, at least for now. He slowly lifts his hand and checks the wound. The blood has stopped and his blood is working on putting the skin back together, though it will take much longer due to her own body’s own limitations.

“Pull back the bed covers,” he tells Danny. “We need to keep her warm, she’s lost too much blood and she might go into shock.”

Danny jumps to her feet to do as she’s told, in the back of his mind Khan gives her credit for not freezing completely and picks up her unconscious servant. They put Irri in bed and bundle her up as best they can.

“I need to find my dragons,” Danny mumbles, her mind fixated on that loss.

“And I need to find Stiles,” Khan barks back, “the question is, do you want to save this girl or can I stop wasting my time on her?”

The girl spins around as if he’d struck her, finally her eyes take in the full destruction of the room and come back to rest on the injured dothraki woman. “Save her.” Danny speaks after a heavy pause. “Please.”

* * *

Khan walks out of Danny's room, pulling his sleeve down, and takes a deep breath. The Dothraki girl had been on a fast downward spiral and he’d had to improvise fast to give her a blood transfusion. Animal intestines and hollowed reeds from Xaro’s gardens did the trick. Not the most sterile way to go about it, but his blood would keep her from getting any infections. His stomach growls, reminding him that he needs to replenish himself as well. He looks down the stairs as he hears footsteps approaching.  Rakharo is still standing guard halfway down.

“I’ve demanded a meeting of the Thirteen.” He hears Xaro saying as he and Danny come around the corner. “One of them did this or knows who did.”

“You are one of the Thirteen,” Danny says as she makes her way up the stairs.

“If I wanted your dragons, I would have taken them. They mean nothing to me on their own.” Xaro’s words ring true, but there was more to it. His heartbeat spoke of deception.

“Nothing?” Danny says, turning back to face the man. “They’re more valuable than anything in the world!”

“Shall we look inside my vault and see what selling your dragons would buy me I cannot buy already?” Xaro says, and Khan’s hearing once again warns him of the man’s deception. “We will get them back.”

Danny takes a step back down. “There is no we, so why would you help me get them back?”

“I took you under my protection in front of the rulers of my city. A man is what others say he is and no more. If they say that Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a liar, my word is worth nothing. I cannot let this thing happen to you under my roof.”

Every instinct is telling Khan to snap the man’s neck, that he was a danger to them, but he learned to control his instincts a long time ago. Instead he remains silent and waits for the man to dig his own grave.

“But it did happen under your roof,” Danny snaps.

“Khaleesi, many times in my life, I have been-”

“I don’t care where you’ve been!” Danny cuts him off and quickly ascents the stairs. Her eyes meet Khan’s and she takes his arm pulling him back inside. “How is she?” she asks and lets go of his arm. She walks to Irri’s side and looks down at her. “Her color is back and her breathing is stronger.” She looks back at him. “No more lies, Khan, I’m tired of people telling me lies. Who are you? What are you?”

“I am not your enemy, Khaleesi.”

“Oh? And I should trust you on that? Even though you lied to be about being human?”

“I’ve never asked you to trust me,” Khan retorts, feeling irritated. He sighs and goes for a softer tone. “Danny,” he tries again, wishing Stiles was there. The young werewolf was better at reassuring people than he was. The fact that Q hadn’t made an appearance gave Khan hope that his friend was still alive, somewhere, probably with Danny’s dragons. “I didn’t lie. I am human, just...not your average human. I can’t change my shape and I can’t walk through fire unscathed.” He gives her a hopeful if tired grin. “What I am now is...in desperate need of some food.”

Danny quickly walks up to him and guides him to a chair. “You do look a bit pale,” she says. “More than usual anyway.  Rakharo! Sent for food.”

Khan doesn’t feel all that bad, but having her fuss over him is better than having her suspicious of him. “Thank you.”

She locks eyes with him and Khan realizes for the first time that there is indeed a dragon lurking there. “Once we find my dragons, and Stiles, I expect a full explanation. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,  Khaleesi.” He glances at the stairs. “I think Jorah is back.”

Danny stands just as Jorah reaches the top of the stairs. He’s breathing hard as if he had been running.

“You came back,” Danny says with relief.

In truth, Jorah's fate hadn’t crossed Khan’s mind at all. He realized that the man might as well have been dead too only when he heard Danny’s relief at seeing him.

“As soon as I heard,” Jorah says, stepping further into the room. “Do you know anything?”

“Irri is alive, thanks to Khan, but everyone else that was here is dead.”

“I know,” Jorah says. “I met  Rakharo on my way here.” He looks at Khan. “Stiles?”

Khan shakes his head. “From what I can tell he put up a fight, but we didn’t find a body so we assume he was taken too.”

“Doreah?” Jorah asks.

It is Danny who shakes her head now. “We can’t find her either.” Her voice shakes as she speaks, finally letting her emotions show now that Jorah was there. “She must be dead or taken, too. I led my people out of the Red Waste and into the slaughterhouse.”

“I should have been here,” Jorah says with a different kind of emotion coloring his voice. 

“Then you’d be dead too,” Khan says. “I don’t know what took place here but it was not...normal. I can’t think of anything in this world that would be capable of taking down a werewolf.”

Jorah nods. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Xaro has arranged a meeting with the 13,” Danny cuts in. “He thinks it's one of them who did it.”

Khan shares a doubtful look with Jorah. “I wouldn’t trust Xaro if I were you, Khaleesi,” Khan says carefully. “I know that whenever he speaks to you he tells you half truths. He is up to something.”

“Still,” Danny says. “I should go to this meeting. It might be the only way to find my dragons...and Stiles.”

“Then we go with you,” Jorah says firmly.

Danny smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

“I did not leave the comfort of my home to come to yours and be called a thief,” the spice king says, he looks truly angry for the first time since they met him.

“No one is calling you a thief,” Xaro counters calmly.

“Who is she to accuse us?” the other man goes on, ignoring Xaro.

“Please, they’re my children. Without me, the dragons will die,” Danny pleads.

“It will be for the best,” the spice king says vehemently. “Your dragons will bring the world nothing but death and misery, my dear. If I knew where they were, I would not tell you.”

“You are cruel, my friend!” the warlock jumps in for the first time since the meeting gathered. “The Mother of Dragons is in the right. She must be reunited with her babies.” He turns and looks at Danny. 

Khan instinctively steps closer to the girl, every fiber of his being, every instinct is suddenly telling him this man was dangerous.

“I will help you, Khaleesi,” the warlock says and smiles.

Danny gives Khan a quick glance and returns her attention to the warlock, now more wary of him as well. “How?”

“I will take you to the House of the Undying where I have put them.”

Danny looks at the other 13 in shock before answering the warlock. “ _ You _ have my dragons?”

“When I learned you were coming to our city, I made an arrangement with the King of Qarth,” the warlock says, he pauses as the 13 laugh at him but his expression is still smug and he goes on. “He procured them for me.”

“But there is no King of Qarth!” Danny exclaims, frustrated.

“There is now,” Xaro says standing up from his seat and looking down at her. “That was the other half of the arrangement.”

Out of nowhere the warlock gasps and clutches his head. “The beast!” he says in a panic to Xaro. “The beast is free!”

Khan realizes faster than Xaro what the warlock means and walks up to Xaro as the big man hesitates. “Thank you, Xaro,” he says pleasantly. “For revealing all my enemies.” As Xaro turns to look at him with annoyance Khan kicks his leg, completely shattering the man’s knee. As the big man falls with a loud scream Khan easily catches him in his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he growls in the terrified man’s ear before he snaps his neck. 

He pulls the man’s sword out before he lets his body drop to the ground and slashes at the warlock who comes at him screaming. The sword cuts the frail man in half at the waist and purple blood gushes out from the two halves. Khan looks at the odd colored blood, his brain finally making the connection, he looks up just in time to see another warlock walking up behind the spice king. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, the annoying merchant means nothing to him, but he could prove useful. He throws the sword, impaling the would be assailant against the wall.

Jorah steps into the fray as more of the servants reveal themselves to be warlocks. They dispatch them quickly but not before they manage to kill a few of the 13. 

Once it seems that no more warlock copies will be coming at them, Khan walks up to the trembling spice king and picks him up from the collar of his ridiculous outfit. “Where is the House of the Undying?” he growls into the man’s face and gives him a good shake when he only mumbles incoherently. “Where?”

“Edge of the city!” the man squeals. “Up the hill!”

Khan lets him drop and looks at Jorah. “Stay with her, I’m going ahead.” He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Wait!” Danny calls after him. There is enough of command in her tone to make Khan pause and glare at her. Danny doesn’t back down. “Take me with you, I need to find my dragons.”

Khan shakes his head. “I don’t have time to look after you.”

Danny lifts her chin up. “I am the mother of dragons and I-”

“For crying out loud!” Khan exclaims. He quickly walks up to her and picks her up. “I definitely don’t have time for one of your speeches.” Danny wraps her arms around his neck and smirks. Khan shakes his head as he carries her out of Xaro’s home. “You are terrible,” he tells her before he starts running.

“Don’t mind me,” Jorah calls after them. “I’ll catch up.”

“You are very fast,” Danny comments after a while, then yelps as Khan suddenly leaps over a garden wall instead of going around. “And definitely not human.”

Khan is in no mood of biting his own tongue in an attempt to argue that, so he keeps his mouth shut and pushes himself to go even faster. They soon leave the city and enter a forested area, more a garden really as the trees seem to be strategically placed to resemble a maze. Khan has no problems navigating through it, he learned how to beat mazes when he was five. At the center of it all is a flight of stairs leading up to a tall tower with spikes coming out of it at the middle and top. He lets Danny down at the bottom of the stairs and they both look up at the tower.

“No guards,” he tells her. “I can’t hear anyone nearby.”

“Then this makes it easier,” she replies and begins walking up the stairs.

“Or more dangerous,” Khan counters and follows her. “Let’s not forget, these warlocks took down a werewolf.”

At the top of the stairs th ey pass under a n arch and find themselves at the bottom of the tower but there is no door in which to enter it.

“Is this a riddle?” Danny asks and begins to walk around the tower.

Khan hesitates a moment, considering if it would be a good idea to climb the tower. “Danny, wait.” He begins to follow her but loses sight of her and she keeps going faster around the tower looking for an entrance. Khan picks up his pace and finds himself where he started with no Danny in sight. “Danny?” he calls. “ Daenerys!” He sighs and puts his hands on his hips to glare at the tower. If the area around it was like a maze then...maybe. He reaches a hand out and touches the wall, he begins to slowly walk around the tower again, his fingertips never leaving the surface of the wall until...he stops and pushes his hand in through the seemingly solid wall, only there’s nothing there. He shakes his head. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he says and walks through the illusion.

On the other side is a flight of stairs leading down into a semi dark tunnel. The source of what little light there is seems distant and flickering, probably torches. Khan goes down cautiously, his eyes quickly spot a torch receptacle and when he touches the wall above it it’s still warm. The torch was probably taken by Danny only moments ago.

He holds his breath and tilts his head, listening. The screech of baby dragons suddenly rings in the tunnel making him wince. He begins to follow the sounds, knowing that if he finds them he finds Danny when another noise catches his attention. It sounds like a soft whine, coming from the opposite direction. He looks down both tunnels before he makes up his mind.

* * *

*** trigger warning ***

Stiles wakes slowly with a groan, unfortunately even that little bit of noise makes his ears ring painfully. He squeezes his eyelids shut while trying to remember why he feels like he spent the night at the bottom of a bloodwine barrel. As he tries to roll unto his side, there’s a distinct glang of metal. 

Awareness drives his heart rate up and adrenaline fuels Stiles’ scramble upwards. His stomach lurches up with him but he manages to lean back against a cold stone wall to steady himself. The beta pants heavily, wrinkling his nose at the stench of moist decay. “The fuck did I land myself into now.” Stiles’ voice echoes, he looks down at the manacles around his wrists, dread fills him when he feels the same cold iron wrapped around his neck.

Stiles closes his eyes and counts to ten, slowing his breathing with each number. Assessing his own health is priority, he can worry about escaping once he’s sure he won’t drop dead any minute. Years of training, and a considerable amount of therapy, is probably what keeps him from having a complete meltdown. Best test is a shift, if the poison is like wolfsbane he won't be able to change and a shift should speed up his bodies’ healing response. He pushes his physical discomfort to the side and while he has to force it more than he should, his beta shift takes over swiftly.

The metal around his wrists and neck creek under the pressure of the added mass. Stiles clenches his jaw tightly to keep himself from making more noise and pulls at the chains bolting him to the rock wall. As it is, anyone walking by the cell door in front of him would probably be able to hear the sound of the anchors exploding out of the granite. He waits a bit, anxiety peaking for a moment and settling back down when no one burst in to stop him. It takes a bit of careful prying but Stiles is able to rip off the metal collar and manacles just before he reaches the cell door.

A strong wave of vertigo hits Stiles just as he yanks on the door. His shift fades away unexpectedly. The wolf shakes off the nausea before shifting again, he growls in frustration at only achieving a partial shift and adjusts his grip, the metal creaks but doesn’t budge. The door must be bolted to the ground or something. He’s done being subtle, while he’s sure he’s not actually dying, whatever the warlocks poisoned him with is wreaking havoc on his body and mind.

After a few tries, Stiles’ frustration mounts and steps back before running full speed at the door. When his body collides with it, the door is ripped off its hinges and clatters to the ground. He stumbles out into a dark corridor, almost face planting into the wall, the stone damp and cold under his palm. 

Either side looks identical, long, dark, and narrow passageways with the only light coming from beyond low archways. Stiles sniffs the air a bit but there’s no discernible breeze of any kind. “Joy, dark foreboding tunnels, my favorite.” The beta whispers to himself sarcastically then opts to go left, mostly because he remembers something about always going left if you're lost. 

His head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton wool and a sound in the distance startles him, he can’t tell if it was a scream or screech. His vertigo makes the hall stretch and tilt, Stiles has to stop every few steps to make sure he’s still facing right side up. He finally reaches the first turn, hand guiding him around the corner. “Shit.”

A warlock stops mid step not two feet in front of the beta. Shock keeps it frozen just long enough for Stiles to roar and tackle the man down with his claws aimed at it’s guts.

Stiles pushes himself up with a wobble, he needs to move faster but he’s struggling to keep his equilibrium. Mentally, he’s not doing so hot either; every sound pulls his mind in a different direction. He turns another corner and is faced with an identical path but at least this hall is empty. The idea of being trapped in these tunnels is starting to get to him too. His pulse is drumming in his ears, the scent of sulfurous blood now adding to the foulness in the air. 

This place reminds him of things he hasn’t thought about in a long time. He doesn’t even really think about it when he looks down to count his fingers, he doesn’t get to ten though. Another warlock appears in his peripheral with a shriek on its lips and a sword raised high above its head.

The wolf ducks and spins to the side, claws raking down the warlock’s back as he passes. He doesn’t wait to see if it was lethal and keeps his half run going. Hyper awareness is keeping him on his toes, with every little noise Stiles’ entire body coils up for a possible attack and when nothing comes all that he finds is another eery tunnel. He stops with a whine in the back of the throat.

Stiles leans against the stone doing his damndest to keep his thoughts in order. The only thing in his sight right now is a long dark hall and a doorway that seems too far to ever reach. His stomach clenches painfully and he knows if he doesn’t snap out of the loop he’s headed for a nasty panic attack. Knowing doesn’t stop it from happening though, which makes the whole thing even worse.

Running footfalls ahead makes the wolf’s head snap up. “How many of these fuckers are there.” He grits out while pushing himself off the wall, he can’t keep running aimlessly like this. Stiles shakes his head before readying himself, arm pulled back and aimed for the jugular. Holding his breath, the beta clenches his muscles and- “Oh fuck, it’s you!” 

Stiles pulls back just in time to miss Khan’s upper body. The aborted motion makes him lose his balance and he crashes sideways into the wall. He slides down, shift fading and chest heaving in large gulps of air while he stares at the augment with wide eyes. “I-” He gulps again, “I almost killed you.” Shock makes his heart thud louder and harder against his ribs.

Khan kneels next to him. “Nice to see you too? What’s wrong with you?” He reaches out to feel Stiles’ forehead with the back of his hand. He then takes Stiles’ head in both hands and looks into his eyes. “Are you drugged?” 

Stiles is still focused on the fact that he almost killed a friend… again. He shakes his head, that was a long time ago and it hadn’t been him. The memory of it still plays out in his head before he can chase it away. The questions finally register, he looks up into concerned blue eyes. “I- maybe?”

Khan’s eyebrows knit together. “Can you stand?” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he takes hold under Stiles’ armpits and lifts him up. He ignores the undignified yelp and props him against the wall but doesn’t let go. “Can you walk?”

The tunnel spins and Stiles uses Khan’s body to keep himself from going along with it. He wants to answer that he’s totally ok but the fact that he’s still trying to catch his breath wont let him utter a single word. The wolf tries to be gentle with his hold, he doesn’t want to hurt the man trying to rescue him. His brain can’t focus on any one thing, it all goes circling back to the same panicked feeling in his gut that he’s going to die here. Alone, without his pack. “I.” He looks at Khan’s face, desperately trying to slow his breathing down. 

“Alright,” Khan says and places a hand gently against Stiles’ chest. “Stiles, breathe with me. Steady now. In and out.” 

The man’s touch is warm and his deep voice is just enough to keep him from going over completely. It’s not enough though, with no alpha, no anchor to keep a hold of, Stiles isn’t sure he can get over this. A thought occurs to him and is out of his mouth before he really thinks about it. “I’m having a panic attack,” he rushes in between breaths, “you gotta knock my ass out, ” Stiles manages to look the man in the eye, “or kiss me.”

He sees Khan blink in confusion and pull back a bit. The Augment looks down at his hand and forms a fist then hesitates. Stiles closes his eyes in anticipation of the blow. “Ah, hell,” he hears Khan say then the Augment’s body presses against him and their lips meet. 

While Stiles had been aiming to shock some sense into himself, he hadn’t actually expected Khan to go for option kiss the werewolf stupid. A regular kiss would have done the trick, but there’s something about the way those warm lips first rest against his own before slowly parting that makes him groan. 

His brain doesn’t wait to get an actual systems go and Stiles opens his mouth to let Khan probe further. An appreciative purr rumbles through Stiles when the augment’s arms slide and lock around him with the sort of strength that makes his stomach clench. Khan responds by pinning him more firmly against the wall. The augment’s hands slide further down to Stiles’ ass then easily picks the werewolf up off the floor.

Their heads angle to adjust, the kiss deepening while Stiles tightens his legs around Khan’s waist. The man’s kiss is possessive, much like the way his hands grip tightly at his thighs. There’s a low rumble coming from deep inside the augment’s chest, almost like a growl, the sound elicits a growl of his own. Suddenly Khan latches on to Stiles’ lower lip and bites down, there’s a heavy pause before he breaks the kiss. 

Khan locks eyes with Stiles as he slowly lowers him to the ground and steps back without a word. Like him, the Augment’s breathing is coming in a bit faster than usual. The man opens his mouth to speak and instead a loud roar, not from Stiles, echoes down the tunnel.

“The dragons!” Stiles exclaims, feeling much better than he had before. “C’mon, we’ll talk about  _ that _ when we’re not about to die.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have it folks! hope you all enjoyed that one ;) As you've noticed, this chapter has everyone in it and that's likely how future chapters will turn out as well.  
> Thanks again to everyone who kuddo'd, commented, and subscribed! love the love!  
> Until next time!
> 
> *Stiles wakes up in the House of the Undying, still feeling disoriented he manages to make an escape but suffers a mild panic attack after almost accidentally killing Khan during the confusion. To remedy the problem Stiles opts for a trick he knows will work. There's a kiss, it turns a wee bit heavy ;)


	8. chapter 8

Chapter 8

  
  


The strong gusts whip at them, the ride up a small hill overlooking the sea had been turbulent. The horses start to settle while they wait to meet Renly’s brother, yet another man who wishes to be king. They don’t wait long and Riddick shifts slightly in his saddle as the two  _ would be _ kings face each other. 

The older brother, Stannis, is all sharp features along with a sour expression. At least he looks the part of a warrior but it’s the woman at his side, dressed only in red, that makes Riddick’s inner beast take note. He sees Peter stiffen slightly at Cat’s side, it’s barely enough to let him know something has the wolf spooked.

“Lady Stark,” Stannis says, his sharp eyes turning towards the Lady. “I had not thought to find you in the Stormlands.”

“I had not thought to be here, Lord Stannis,” Cat’s reply is calm yet stern while offering a respectful nod.

“Can that truly be you?” Renly asks, his tone toeing the line of mockery.

“Who else might it be?” Stannis replies, his own tone an obvious warning.

“When I saw your standard, I couldn’t be sure,” Renly goes on, either oblivious or ignoring his brother’s warning. “Whose banner is that?”

“My own.” Is Stannis’s short and only reply.

“I suppose if we used the same one, the battle would be terribly confusing,” Renly throws back, now crossing the line to pure mockery. “Why is your stag on fire?”

“The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light,” the woman in red says.

“Ah,” Renly exclaims, “you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about.” Riddick sees the woman tilt her head back and look down her nose at Renly. It’s a look Riddick knows well. She believes Renly to be beneath her. “Mmm, brother,” Renly goes on, oblivious. “Now I understand why you found religion in your old age.”

The red woman’s gaze drifts from Renly to them. Her poker face is good but not good enough to escape Riddick’s trained eye, they’re spooking her as much as she does them.

“Watch yourself, Renly,” Stannis says, though not as harshly as Riddick expected him to.

“No, no, I’m relieved,” Renly says with a little chuckle. “I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes, but not a godly man.”

“You should kneel before your brother,” The red woman says firmly. “He’s the Lord’s chosen, born amidst salt and smoke.”

“Born amidst salt and smoke?” Renly mocks. “Is he a ham?” There’s a few poorly smothered snickers from the rear, Peter’s snort most prominent among them.

“That’s twice I’ve warned you,” Stannis snaps just as the red woman rolls her eyes and looks away with an annoyed expression.

“Listen to yourselves,” Cat snaps. “If you were sons of mine, I would knock your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber until you remembered that you were brothers.” Her motherly glare leaves no doubt that she means it.

Riddick holds back a chuckle as Stannis eyes Cat, the man looks a bit amused but it quickly fades. “It is strange to find you beside my brother, Lady Stark,” he says. “Your husband was a supporter of my claim. Lord Eddard’s integrity cost him his head. And you sit beside this pretender and chastise me?”

“We share a common enemy,” Cat says, though it's obvious the man has raised her anger.

“The Iron Throne is mine by right,” Stannis says stubbornly. “All those that deny that are my foes.”

“The whole realm denies it, from Dorne to the Wall.” Renly says. “Old men deny it with their death rattle and unborn children deny it in their mother’s wombs. No one wants you for their king. You never wanted any friends, brother. But a man without friends is a man without power.”

Stannis’ expression is still one of only mild annoyance, which makes Riddick wonder what the man has up his sleeve. His eyes drift to the red woman at the man’s side once more. He can’t put his finger on it, but it feels to him that she’s the one to watch out for.

“For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will give you this one night to reconsider.” Stannis says. “Strike your banners, come to me before dawn, and I will grant you your old seat in the Council. I’ll even name you my heir until a son is born to me. Otherwise, I shall destroy you.”

Renly smiles. “Look across those fields, brother. Can you see all those banners?”

Stannis tilts his head as if he’s looking at a stubborn child. “You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?”

“No,” Renly says, finally getting serious. “The men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king.”

“We shall see, Renly,” Stannis says, turning his horse to the side. “Come the dawn, we shall see.” He rides off.

The red woman pauses a moment longer. “Look to your sins, Lord Renly,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “The night is dark and full of terrors.”

They watch them go for a while before Renly says bitterly. “Would you believe I loved him once?”

* * *

Peter stands to the left behind Cat, with Riddick keeping watch a little further to the right. He’s got one ear on the bargaining happening between Lady Stark and King Renly while the other is focused on any movements outside the royal tent. Every breath is long and deep, if anyone,  _ or anything _ , is stupid enough to sneak up on them tonight Peter highly doubts they’d make it very far.

_ The night is dark and full of terrors _ . The red witch’s words had solidified the Alpha’s suspicions. Stannis had no intention of waiting until morning for his little brother to come to heel. The threat had been obvious to everyone, except Renly of course.

Once they’d returned to their tent, the three of them had discussed the red woman’s presence and the threat she obviously posed. They’d agreed that Renly’s life was in danger and would have to keep him alive through the night if they had any hope of making a deal for the North. Stannis wouldn’t give an inch if he won the crown, and with a witch at his side, Peter had made it clear that they should be ready for anything.

The king had taken their warning only half seriously but thankfully, Briene had. Renly’s ever present shadow stands squarely behind her liege rather than further back as he’d wished. Now, with an agreement firmly taking shape Peter considers the battle they’ve agreed to take part in come morning. He’d like to avoid having to siege a fortress like Storm’s End.

“You swear it?” Renly's insistent tone grabs Peter’s attention.

“By the mother.” Cat answers with certainty. “My son has no interest in the Iron Throne.”

The conviction in her voice seems to be enough for Renly. The king leans back with a self satisfied smile. “Then I see no reason for hostility between us. Your son can go on calling himself King in the North. The Starks will have dominion over all lands north of Moat Caitlin, provided he swears me an oath of fealty.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow despite himself. He’d expected a bit more resistance.

“And the wording of this oath?” Cat watches the young king shrewdly.

“The same Ned Stark swore to Robert years ago.” Renly answers back without missing a beat, though his cocky persona shifts to something more, personable. “Cat, their friendship held the kingdoms together.”

“And in return for my son’s loyalty?” She asks with guarded relief.

Renly smiles before standing. The king wanders over to a mirror, his words are said with confidence despite the turmoil Peter can sense hiding underneath. “In the morning, I’ll destroy my brother’s army. When that’s done, Baratheon and Stark will fight their common enemy together, as they have done many times before.”

“If the Starks and Baratheons are to join forces once more, I ask that you allow Rob’s bannermen,” she turns slightly in her seat to gesture to Riddick then Peter, “to ride with you on the morrow.” 

Renly turns with a thoughtful frown, the moment stretches before the man smirks. “I suppose adding your banners to my own will send a clear enough message to Stannis.” 

Cat stands, exchanging a brief look of relief with them. Peter moves in to follow, intent on talking strategy when the breeze shifts. Both Cat and he take notice, stopping in their tracks. Their halted movements catch both Riddick’s and Briene’s attention. The tent goes silent.

“What?” Renly asks, confused. 

Peter is scanning the tent when he hears a low growl from Cat. He turns to look near the back of the tent, cursing out loud when he notices a distortion on the backdrop where Renly’s shadow should be.

The shadow begins to shift and coalesce, Cat startles at Peter’s side. The she-wolf’s beta features take control as she yelps out a roar. The black figure falters before detaching itself from the fabric, taking on the vague shape of man. A shadowed blade forms almost too quickly for Peter to see. He coils back then springs into its path when the shadow assassin flits towards Renly. As Peter’s alpha roar rings out, the shadow flickers to a stand still just outside of his reach. 

He holds to roar as long as he can, the creature isn’t running away but at least it’s not advancing. Riddick creeps up in Peter’s peripheral and he chances a stop to grab some air. His worry holds true, as soon as the roar dies down, the shadow flickers once more to make another advance. There’s barely enough time for him to gulp down another lungfull, the alpha forces the second roar out while shifting under the stress.

Riddick steps up to the shadow, his skin shimmering with a soft silver-bluish light. The Furyan crouches as if he’s about to tackle the creature but instead he begins to glow even more. The glow originates at his chest and shoots out in his veins, making them bulge and turn silver as it spreads to the rest of his body. The Furyan seems to struggle to contain what’s happening to him, his muscles flexing and his whole body shaking as if electrocuted. The glow reaches Riddick's eyes, making them shine with an ethereal glow as the Furyan throws back his head and lets out a roar of his own. Energy suddenly blasts from his body like a sonic boom. It hits the shadow creature and tears it to shreds which then dissipate into nothing. Riddick drops to his knees, head bent and breathing hard.

Peter blinks away the spots from the sudden brightness, turning back slowly while his beta shift fades away. He sees Brienne first, with her eyes blinking rapidly as well, despite this she’s kept her sword at the ready. Surprisingly it’s still aimed in the shadow’s direction rather than his or Riddick’s. 

Renly surges up with Cat at his side just as the guards pour in. There’s a pause in the confusion, everyone frozen in shock from the suddenness of it all. “Stand down!” The king speaks drily and takes a deep breath. “Stand down!” He commands his guards more firmly then exchanges a quick look with Briaene before focusing on Peter. “There has been an attempt on my life but thanks to these brave men, the,” Renly pauses at a loss for words. The king turns back to his guards while clearing his throat. “The assassin was driven away. Search the camp.” 

The guard at the front of the line seems to hesitate. “You heard your King, there’s been an attempt on his life, search the camp!” Brienne’s stern command startles the soldiers into action. The small troupe files out, shouts and more commands spread through the camp.

Peter goes to check on Riddick as soon as the tent is silent and offers the man a hand up. “Nice trick, wish I’d brought my sunglasses with me though.”

Riddick laughs as he takes Peter’s hand and pulls himself up. “I did go a bit overboard, since I didn’t know what the hell that was,” the Furyan says once he’s on his feet.

“What was that?” Renly’s voice trembles a little.

Peter sighs after aiming a raised eyebrow at Riddick for his last comment.  “That your grace, is the work of your brother’s red woman. Sorcery, dark magic, call it what you will but it was meant to be your death.” He pauses as Cat joins him.

“It’s face.” She whispers in confusion. “I could have sworn…”

“It was Stannis your Grace.” Brienne answers, her face set in stone. “That  _ thing _ wore your brother’s face.”

Renly steps back, his face a mix of surprise and regret as he paces back and forth. He stops suddenly, facing them with his confident veneer almost back into place. “Thank you, for saving my life. You will be rewarded justly.”

Riddick snorts. “All I want is a fucking drink and that bastard’s head.”

Peter chuffs darkly in agreement. “That shadow may have been meant for you but it would have killed us simply for being here. Your brother needs to reap what he’s sown.”

“Fight at my side tomorrow and you shall.” The king straightens his posture in false bravado.

“You let us deal with this our way, tonight, and you’ll be able to save your men for King’s Landing.” The alpha takes a step forward, letting his eyes glow for a moment. “There’s no telling what else that red woman will try to throw at us if we give her time.” Peter turns to Cat. “Stay with the king, if anything else appears, roar. That seemed to do something to the creature.” He waits for her nod and gives Riddick a nudge with his elbow. “Time to go hunting.”

* * *

Riddick follows Peter to the edge of the camp. The wolf pauses and sniffs the air. Riddick removes his goggles and scans the area.

“Have you got a scent to follow?” he asks when he sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

The wolf nods though he doesn’t turn from where his gaze is fixed. “The coast, closer than I’d thought.” With a swift motion, Peter drops his fur cloak and quickly sets to remove his shirt. “I don’t exactly have spares,” the wolf huffs and begins to change into the giant wolf form Riddick has only seen once before.

Riddick nods at the wolf and they take off into the night. Any normal human would break his neck over this rocky terrain at night, but the two of them traverse it with ease down to the coast. Peter follows the scent to a cave but neither of them needs to go in to know it's empty. Their heads turn toward the sea and Riddick growls as he sees two distinct heat signatures floating almost halfway between them and the shadowy ships of Stannis’ fleet.

“I don’t know about wolves, but I can’t swim fast enough to catch up with them.” He looks at Peter. “At least give them a farewell howl.” 

The wolf sits, even then his head still sits taller than Riddick’s. With his muzzle pointed up, Peter lets loose the loudest howl the Furyan has ever heard. It resonates through every fiber of his being, the sort of sound that’ll make any prey animal run for cover.

“Felt that in my balls,” Riddick says and pats the wolf’s back. “Lets head back.”

Riddick rose before the sun and headed to the coast, he frowned at the clear horizon. Stannis’ fleet was gone. He turns as he hears familiar footsteps coming up behind him. “Seems like we won’t get any fun here either,” he tells the wolf. “I was looking forward to a good fight.” 

“Wouldn’t have been much of one, I’m surprised Stannis isn’t holed up in his fortress.” Peter crosses his arms while looking out over the ocean. “Word around the camp is split, some think he’s run away, most think he’s making a run for Kings Landing.”

Riddick harrumphs thoughtfully. “Kings Landing,” he says. “He might put his tail between his legs when it comes to beating his sorcery, but I don’t think he’d give up on the crown.” 

Peter nods. “I agree, from what I’ve heard his fleet stands a good chance. Especially with the witch at his side.” The man takes a deep breath before turning back. “Do you have any experience with infiltrations? I think you and I need to get there before Stannis.”

Riddick chuckles. “Just a bit. What about Cat?”

“She needs to bring the treaty between Renly and the North, and Little Finger, to Robb. If we coordinate properly; we can get into Kings Landing, grab Sansa and meet back with Cat before she even reaches Robb’s camp.” Peter looks up in thought, “Renly can siege Kings Landing to his heart’s content after that.”

“And once we do that, should we look for the other little one? Rey, was it?” 

The wolf pauses mid stride, a single brown brow lifts up and the bitch face Peter gives Riddick almost makes him chuckle. “You know playing stupid with me never works right?”

Riddick shrugs carelessly, “Old habits. Besides, you know who I’m talking about.”

“ _ Arya _ , is the young girl running loose on her own out there.” Peter resumes his walk back to the camp but the subject of the girl seems to have struck a nerve.

“So,” Riddick says, following after the wolf at a relaxed pace. “Why does a stick fly up your ass every time a lost little girl is even mentioned?”

There’s a put upon sigh from the wolf, he turns to Riddick with a frown. “I had a daughter, her mother gave her up before I knew about her. There was an incident when Malia experienced her first shift too young. She raised herself in the wilds, locked in her coyote form until she was found almost a decade later, by Stiles of all people.” Peter keeps walking after falling silent for a moment. “Everything I hear about Arya Stark reminds me of Malia. So yes, I suppose even after all these years it's a tender spot.”

Riddick watches the wolf go for a moment then resumes following. “Is she alive?”

“I’m not sure to be honest.” Peter’s tone is surprisingly steady. “If anyone could survive what was happening when Stiles and I were taken… Arya isn’t a coyote though, or a wolf. Her chances of survival aren’t as likely.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you. I knew a girl like that once, she wasn’t a wolf or...coyote, but she was a beast nonetheless.” Though he didn’t mention she didn’t have a good ending either. “What happens happens. Sometimes it's better for them if we’re not around.” He shrugs. 

Peter nods his head with a thoughtful hum. “First, let’s make sure the king knows what he’s getting himself into. We can pack up and ride to King's Landing before midday.”

“Sounds good to me,” Riddick says. “Though we should probably ask Cat for something to say or show to Sansa so she knows we’re friends. Don’t want the girl freaking out on us.”

“I’m sure Cat will think of something good. We should see about grabbing a few extra horses, we’re likely to ride hard for the next few days.” The wolf gives him a little grin over his shoulder.

Riddick sighs dramatically and ignores the wolf’s smug little smile. 

* * *

Khan walks up the steps to quarterdeck and leans against the railing. He takes a deep breath as he watches the ocean for any signs of marine life. He always dreamed of being on a ship like this and he is not disappointed, except perhaps for the fact that he didn’t get to see a whale. He turns to look behind him at the approaching city bay with some remorse. Another hour or so and they’d be back on land.

He sees Dany, standing at the prow of the ship also looking out at the approaching city, her attention seems focused on something specific and he follows her line of sight. As the ship begins to turn for port, from behind the mainsail emerges what Dany is looking at. He raises an eyebrow at the massive, golden, harpy-like statue that sits on one of the towers, looking out at the approaching ships. Khan knows a warning when he sees one.

The sound of dry heaving turns his attention back on the ship. The Dothraki had been miserable the whole week it took them to cross, which also made the lower decks a miserable experience for Stiles and his sensitive nose. The wolf would spend most of his time above deck, but with the rising sun came the call of land ahead and now the younger man was below decks, happily packing their belongings, even though it meant braving the unsavory smells.

As if summoned by Khan’s thoughts, Stiles’ head pokes out from the hatch leading to the crew quarters. Khan grins when the young wolf’s nostrils flare at whatever scent he’s caught and waves at him when Stiles looks in his direction. Stiles smiles and practically jumps out of the hatch and onto the deck. He says a cheerful good morning to a couple of Dothraki who are trying to keep down their breakfast and makes his way up the stairs to Khan.

“Good morning,” Khan says once the young wolf is standing next to him. He glances around them but other than the man at the wheel, there’s no one else around. “Slept well?” In truth this is probably the first time since the House of the Undying that they’ve had this much privacy. Most everyone else was either busy guiding the ship into port or standing at the other end of the deck watching the city approach.

Stiles leans his elbows on the railing with a relaxed smile. “Good morning indeed,” the wolf takes a deep lungfull of sea air. “And as for sleep, let's just say it's a good thing I don’t actually need all that much of it. You?”

Khan grins. “I slept fine. I feel like I was meant to be on a ship. Might have to commission one for myself when I get back.”

“It’s not bad, makes me miss the Enterprise a little.” The wolf whispers while leaning further over the rail. “Fish!”

Khan leans over to see a school of fish leap out of the water. “I’ve been on Kirk’s Enterprise you know, it was a nice little ship.” He stops himself from adding ‘for a while’.

The wolf straightens, his expression somewhere between shock and affront. “Ok well, the old Constitution class were alright for their time but the Enterprise D wasn’t even on the same level. Forty-eight decks, twice the length and eight times the interior space. Could hit warp 9 easy, she was a beauty. They’re making a new one actually. Needless to say, I miss all the extra space. And the sonic showers...”

Khan chuckles and shakes his head. “I could never stand sonic showers. Clean water and soap for me.” He sighs and leans back on the railing. “Your ship sounds nice though. Any chance you’d draw me some schematics?” He smirks. 

Stiles snorts. “Not a captain yet, besides, I’m on a space station now, remember.” There’s a flash of a frown. “It’s an old Cardassian base, but it’s grown on me I guess. Between Bajor and the wormhole, there’s plenty to do.”

Khan frowns. “Never heard of Cardassians or Bajor, maybe they weren’t in the timeline I was in. I’ve met Klingons, Vulcans and a few others.”

“Uh.” The wolf shifts his body as the boat dips. Again, Khan gets the sense that Stiles feels conflicted about what he’s said. “Probably not a bad thing there aren't any Cardis in your universe.” The younger man looks up towards the coast. “Should be there soon, you sure about this slave army deal?”

Khan shrugs. “I know it goes against your...sensibilities, I’m not fond of the idea either, but  Jorah is right, an army like that could prove very useful.”

“I’m putting this under Prime Directive and leaving it at that, for now.” Stiles turns to lean his back against the wooden railing. “I’m more worried about the march we’ll have to do after. Logistics alone are gonna be a nightmare.”

Khan snorts his derision about the Prime Directive. “We’ll figure it out when we see what we have to work with. I think better on my feet anyway.”

A funny little smile tugs at the corner of Stiles mouth. “That you do.”

Khan eyes the younger man. The gleam in his eyes reminds him a bit of Nyoka. “Uh. About that. I...should I have gone for option one?”

Laughter burst out of Stiles suddenly, “No way! That was a damn good kiss. Didn’t think you had it in you.” The wolf winks. “Seriously though, I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you but I didn’t want to embarrass you either.”

Khan frowns, unsure if the wolf is poking fun at him. “You’re welcome?”

Stiles’ expression turns serious. “I get the sense you’re worried about it still so let’s be grown ups and talk about it. Panic attacks suck but I’ve had them before, sometimes if it's bad, I need something to help my brain… change gears. Now I don’t go asking for kisses from just anyone, but Peter won't feel the need to pummel you just because we swapped spit. Besides, we’re pretty open to others if the circumstances are right.” The wolf pats Khan on the shoulder with what he supposes is meant to be a comforting smile. “Seriously though, that was a damn good kiss.”

“Good to know I won’t have to test my skills against a werewolf defending his mate’s honor,” Khan says with a slight smile, relaxing a bit. “And thanks, I’ll let Riddick know you approve.” He chuckles a bit thinking what the big guy’s reaction might be. “He’ll have a field day with this. I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Can’t wait to meet the guy.” Stiles chuckles then heaves a long sigh as he turns to look at the looming city ahead.

The port is a lot closer now. Khan’s own sigh has more than a little regret. “We should go grab our things. We’re almost there.”

* * *

Stiles keeps his hands firmly clasped behind his back and keeping pace a foot behind Jorah. Khan is doing much the same on his right, they briefly share a somber look. 

Astapor isn’t what either of them had really expected. Despite Jorah’s warning that this was a slave city, neither of them had been ready for the sights that had greeted them once they’d disembarked. The divide between master and slave was clear with no in between. Stiles’ nerves have been on edge since he’d entered the city gates, the air is permeated with pain and despair. 

His gaze flicks back to the man walking on Dany’s right, there’s a brief flash in his mind of marching up and snapping the master’s neck.  _ Pompous shit head _ , even if Stiles can’t understand his words, the man’s entire demeanor makes the wolf’s hackles go up. He stays silent though, refocusing himself into security officer mode while taking in the looming guard tower. 

“The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night with no food or water.” Their  _ translator _ , a young woman with a collar around her neck, politely intones from her position behind the master and a pace in front of Khan.

Stiles looks through the archway at the small squadron of soldiers waiting at attention. He presses his palms together more tightly, digging his nails in a bit. 

The master talks with an odd mix of pride and carelessness. The girl continues the translation with the sort of practiced detachment that makes Stiles hate this place even more. “They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience.”

The Unsullied change formation to let them walk through the centre of the small plaza. There’s an odd smell about them that makes Stiles’ brow furrow but he’s got no clue what it means.

“They may suit my needs.” Dany’s tone is deceptively calm, her lessons with Khan are sure starting to pay off. Her discomfort with the situation though is on par with Stiles own. “Tell me of their training.” She keeps her gaze forward as they walk, pausing briefly when they reach a small set of wooden steps that lead up to a raised platform. 

The translation takes a little longer than he’d expected, he’s done this sort of thing often enough to know the cadence it should have taken. However it was phrased, the question appears to annoy the master who leads the way up the stairs in a huff. Stiles exchanges another look with Khan, a slightly raised eyebrow tells him the augment caught onto that little hiccup as well.

Stiles and Khan join Jorah on Dany’s right once they’ve all stepped onto the dias. The soldiers close rank smoothly, he should be impressed but can’t bring himself to feel much more than pity.

“They begin their training at the age of 5. Every day they drill from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears.” The girl pauses, there’s an uptick in her heartbeat before she continues. “Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training.” 

Stiles understands her hesitation now. He takes a low breath, gazing down at the souls there and he clenches his jaw at the way the master calmly whispers at Dany’s side.

“Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing.” 

Hard to fear when you’ve had your humanity stripped from you, Stiles almost voices his bitter thoughts but it’s Jorah who loosens his tongue first. 

“Even the bravest men fear death,” Jorah intones gravely, looking at Dany with worry.

The girl appears surprised by the knight’s interjection. When she tells her master what Jorah has stated, the man’s response makes the girl clam up. There’s a quick exchange of words, clearly  _ master douche _ is offended. “My master says the Unsullied are not men. Death means nothing to them.”

The master’s next words make the girl even more uncomfortable but what really throws Stiles is the way Dany’s heart rate ratchets up sharply for instant. He leans forward a bit to see her face and only sees the perfect facade she’s had on since stepping off the boat.

“He begs you attend to this carefully, Your Grace.” The girl adds while the man steps down from the dias and orders one of the soldiers to step forward. 

Stiles’ own heart begins to speed up in trepidation; he doesn’t want to see what an example of the Unsullied’s loyalty could be. His worry is proven right when the master takes the soldier’s knife in one hand and a nipple in the other. A knot forms in Stiles stomach and he locks his gaze with the soldier’s. 

“Tell the good master there is no need.” Dany’s attempt to stop the heinous act is futile. 

The coppering tang of blood reaches his nose as the master butchers one of his own men. There’s a low growl in Stiles throat that he can’t really help.

The girl’s voice might be steady but her anxiety is as sharp as everyone else's. “My master points out that men don’t need nipples.” There’s a heavy pause while her master looks up at them placidly. “To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find a newborn and kill it before its mother’s eyes. This way, my master says, we make certain there is no weakness left in them.”

It takes every ounce of self control Stiles has to stay put and not go on a murderous rampage. The scent of anger becomes more pronounced. 

“You take a babe from its mother’s arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?” Dany’s voice shakes only slightly.

The girl’s translation makes the man scoff in derision before he answers back with a dark gleam of satisfaction in his beady eyes.

“My master would like you to know that the silver is paid to the baby’s owner, not the mother.” 

Stiles nearly snorts out loud, because of course that’s how these people would do that.

Dany’s next question surprises him. “How many do you have to sell?” He can tell she’s still upset, very upset, yet she’s done a commendable job of keeping a cool head. 

“Eight thousand.” The number whips the metaphorical rug right from under Stiles legs. Eight thousand beings turned into nothing more than flesh automotones, each with the cost of babe and the other three out of four who’d died during their  _ training _ . “Master Kraznys asks that you please hurry. Many other buyers are interested.” The girl hurries away with her master, leaving the four of them in stunned silence.

* * *

When Stiles gave a fuming ‘excuse me’ and stormed off Khan looked at Dany, unsure if he should follow the young wolf, who looked ready to commit murder, or stay with Dany. She gave him a nod at the same time as Jorah did. With a sigh, Khan hurried after Stiles.

At first he gave the wolf some space, following him from some distance but close enough to intervene if there was trouble. Once he realized where Stiles was heading he caught up with him. 

Stiles had picked the furthest place from the city while remaining within its boundaries. A raised wall that served as a retaining wall which created a small bay and led to another guard house. The wolf stopped about mid way by a large archway and began to pace briefly across the stone path. 

“Stiles?” Khan says gently as he walks up behind the wolf who is now leaning on his elbows on the walkway’s wall, staring out over the murky bay waters. “Are you alright?” As he gets closer he can’t help but check the younger man’s hands for any signs of claws. He could practically feel the heat of the other’s anger radiating outwards.

“32,000.” Stiles’ answer is a tight whisper.

It takes Khan a second to connect the number with the situation. “Ah,” he says, stepping up to the wall and mirroring Stiles. “That’s a lot but not unusual with cultures such as these. Human lives were dispensable.” He winces as he realizes that was probably not the best thing to say in this case. 

“It’s not just that.” Stiles takes another deep breath. “The Unsullied aren’t just well trained slaves, there’s nothing in them.” The wolf runs a hand through his hair before explaining further. “There was no response to what that  _ master _ did. It went beyond ignoring pain…” The younger man seems to struggle with his words. “It’s like, the lights are on but no one’s home? I can see them but to the rest of my senses it’s like there’s a big hole where a person should be.”

Khan shifts uncomfortably, he knows exactly what Stiles is talking about. “Your senses are...wrong. There’s something there, it's just buried so deep...it lays so still, it seems to be dead. Just needs the right kind of spark to make it stirr again.” 

Stiles straightens up to finally look at him with a grimm expression. “That’s the voice of experience talking.” The wolf flicks his gaze back towards the bay. “I’ve never seen this level of… dehumanization, except from hunters and that was a long time ago. If I could, I’d burn this whole place to the ground. We can only hope you’re right that there’s still spark left in these people… maybe one day someone will actually light it.”

“If you could burn it, I’d hand you the torch,” Khan says, his attention drifting to a familiar form walking towards them. He smiles as he notices Dany is playing a kind of hide and seek with a child. “Who knows that spark just might be our young Queen.” He frowns as he notices a hooded figure darting behind a stall and leaning out. “Is that man following Dany?” 

The wolf goes to full attention, instantly zeroing in first in the dark hooded figure then down towards their young charge. “Something’s not right, and it’s not just the suspicious cloak in the middle of the day either.” Stiles sniffs the air in deep draws, his eyes go wide in panic. “Warlocks!” Without another word he pushes himself up and over the stone railing they’d been leaning on and disappears over the edge.

“Stiles!” Khan calls after him, leaning over the railing to see where the wolf ended up. He sees him running along the lower wall, heading for the cloaked man. With a curse under his breath Khan opts to go the other way, one of them would hopefully get to Dany on time. He leaps on the railing and runs along its length until he is close enough to leap onto the dock below. He soars over a couple of stalls and lands on his feet with ease, though his momentum makes him slide a bit. He ignores the gasps of the people close enough to notice and looks for Dany.

He spots her, still oblivious, just as the little girl rolls a ball at her, and Khan is running again. He sees Stiles approaching from the other side, it seems the wolf’s choice was a bit faster than his own. Dany picks up the ball, the girl shows her that it opens and Khan hears Dany chuckle as she does as instructed. Warning bells ring in his mind just as Stiles shouts Khan’s own suspicions at Jorah.

“It’s the girl!” the wolf shouts.

Jorah turns to Stiles with a confused frown just as the cloaked figure tackles Dany to the ground and the ball goes flying out of her hand. Jorah acts quickly but towards the wrong target. He grabs the cloaked man in a headlock then almost as quickly lets him go as he spots the real danger. The cloaked man is faster and he uses his dagger to impale the scorpion-like creature that had emerged from the ball and was heading straight for Dany.

“The giiiirl!” Stiles shouts again and both he and Khan dash past Dany and the two men to chase after the girl. 

The girl hisses at them and Khan sees the purple in her mouth. Stiles was right. A warlock.

He hears Stiles growl as the girl dashes away, heading for the edge of the wooden dock. Stiles dives after her, claws out, the girl jumps off the dock just as the wolf reaches out to catch her by the scruff. He misses, his claws slash down her back which score deep wounds that bleed a deep purple before she disappears off the edge. Stiles almost falls in after her, he teeters at the edge, waving his arms wildly for balance. Khan reaches him just in time to grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him back.

They both lean over the edge to look into the water and they are both almost pushed in by the cloaked man who had also been chasing after the girl. Khan exchanges a glance with Stiles before eyeing the man. He is older than he would have guessed by the way the man moves.

“I owe you my life, Ser,” Dany says from behind them. She sounds both awed and confused.

The man nods at Stiles and Khan before turning to face Dany. “The honour is mine,” he tells her and pushes back his hood. “My Queen.”

Dany glances at Jorah, suddenly confused and suspicious. “You know this man?” she asks the knight.

Jorah nods. “I know him... as one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen.” There’s admiration in his tone that turns to bitterness over his next words. “And as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon’s Kingsguard.”

Dany’s demeanor instantly changes to fearful alertness and the old man quickly steps forward.

“King Robert is dead,” the man says. “I have been searching for you, Daenerys Stormborn, to ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them.” He kneels. “I am Barristan Selmy, Kingsguard to your father. Allow me to join your Queensguard and I will not fail you again.”

Khan walks up behind the man, Stiles at his side. The man’s heart beats true over his words. Dany looks up and Khan nods at the question in her eyes.

* * *

Stiles sighs gratefully while he shuts the door behind him. Just this morning he hadn’t been able to get off the ship fast enough, now it’s the only place that doesn’t disgust him outright. At least with the majority of the Dothraki staying off the boat there’s room for him and Khan to have a small cabin for the night. 

Stiles sits down at a small circular table with a huff, Khan slowly paces the small length of floor they have. “So, that Jeoffrey sounds like a little shit.”

Khan pauses and glances at him. He shrugs. “Sounds like any inbred King that’s ever lived to me.”

“Easy throwing the I word around, Dany might not appreciate it.” Stiles leans back into his chair with a chuckle. “But I totally agree with you, which means things in Westeros are going to get messy with a sadistic nut job and overprotective mum at the helm…” He scratches at the scruff growing on his cheeks. “I wish the old guy had a bit more to give us, all he really did was confirm a few rumours.”

Khan sighs and leans against a wall, crossing his arms. “Or at least even the slightest hint about what trouble Riddick and Peter are getting into. I somehow doubt they’re behaving themselves.” 

Stiles sighs wistfully, “I’m guessing traveling with the Stark army is keeping them busy…” He tilts his head up to close his eyes. All they can really do is hope their husbands aren’t causing complete chaos without supervision. “Let’s hope we rejoin them before they start having too much fun.” He pauses, thinking ahead to the moment when they’ll finally cross the ocean. A stray thought pops up and he frowns at the possible complication. “Do you think we’ll be able to convince the Starks to support Dany’s claim? Barristan didn’t seem too sure, given what the last Targarian did to them.”

Khan’s eyes narrow as he considers the question. “From what I gather the Starks come from royal blood themselves. They might not be willing to hand over a crown they are currently fighting to regain. I wouldn’t.” 

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Stiles leans forward, elbows propped on his knees while he considers the problem. “I doubt we’ll have made the crossing by my next shift… I can talk to Peter, get him to start working on the Starks.” He drifts off, scratching his growing beard again. How the hell did Riker put up with it. “Ugh, I hate this thing,” Stiles looks up at Khan with a scowl, “how is it that you don’t even have a little stubble by now?”

Khan’s lips pull up into a little smirk. “I don’t grow facial hair...or any kind of body hair.” His smirk grows into a cocky grin. “Too evolved.” His eyes make it plain that he is teasing.

Stiles eyebrows go up in surprise, he blinks a few times trying to bury the mental picture his brain so helpfully supplies. “That’s, uh…” He laughs, “not what I was expecting you to say at all.”

Khan’s grin turns wolfish. “Curious?”

“You can’t say something like that and expect me not to be.” Stiles rolls his eyes but smiles. He’s glad Khan is over the awkwardness there’d been between them since  _ the kiss _ . It’s hard to deny that he’s not at least a little curious though. He winks, playing along with the other man. “Can’t say I would mind getting a peek.”

Khan chuckles. For once he doesn’t seem phased by Stiles’s teasing. “I’m surprised you haven’t had a peek already. I did.” He tilts his head, the movement somehow both smug and playful. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

Stiles cheeks flush a little and the unexpected compliment, though he recovers quickly enough. His reply dies in his throat and he glances towards the door. A familiar heartbeat thuds outside their door, he looks up at Khan with a curious frown. He’d expected her to be spending the night in her own cabin with her dragons.

The augment gives him a shrug before clearing his throat. “Come in your Grace.” The man smiles a little at the startled jump they both hear in the hall.

The door opens slowly with a creak, Dany’s white blonde hair almost glowing in the dark. She gives them a sheepish smile, “Am I intruding?”

“Not at all,” Stiles gets up then motions for her to join him at the table. “Is everything alright?” He tilts his head to the side slightly, she’s obviously nervous about something. An oddity given how controlled she’s been since leaving Qarth. 

The young queen takes the offered seat gratefully. “I wasn’t ready to retire for the night,” she gives them a crooked smirk, “but I don’t think I could have spent much longer listening to Jorah and Ser Barristan reminiscing about their knightley feats.”

Stiles chuckles a little, she’s not being completely honest but there’s truth enough in her words. “They do get a little on the repetitive side.” He glances towards Khan who comes to rest his back on the wall behind Dany since they don’t have a third chair. 

“I’m afraid our own topic at the moment might bore you as well,” Khan says, smirking at Stiles. He pauses, making Stiles worry for a moment before he goes on, what he says next isn’t any better. “We were talking about the young king currently occupying your throne.”

Stiles’ mouth almost drops, he looks at the man behind Danny with disbelief. They hadn’t even really reached a conclusion themselves other than Jeoffrey is a nutter, why in the hell is Khan bringing that up now. He chances a cautious glance at the young queen, she remains calm then turns to Khan with an odd expression. 

“Actually,” Dany starts as she settles back in her chair, she hesitates. “I wanted your council on the matter.” 

“Just our council though,” Stiles says with a crinkle on his forehead. “Something Jorah or Barristan won’t approve of?” 

“I want to buy all the Unsullied.” She straightens in her chair, once more a confident queen instead of the unsure teen she’d been two minutes ago.

“Does this have something to do with the fact that you understood every word the slave master said?” Khan asks calmly.

Khan’s question catches the girl off guard, she looks at Stiles questioningly. He tilts his head to the side and taps his ears. “You're good but your heartbeat gave you away. It’s a good strategy, we’d have appreciated the knowledge sooner though.”

Dany presses her lips together. “I’m a Targarian, Valerian is my mother tongue.” She shrugs unapologetically. “If he’s too stupid to know who he is dealing with… I’ll take whatever advantage I can to win back my kingdom.”

“And that includes owning 8000 slaves even though the idea of it makes you nauseous.” Stiles answers with no judgment in his tone.

Dany inclines her head yes but doesn’t say anything

“You already have a plan,” Khan says, crossing his arms with an amused smile. “I might not have Stiles’s nose but I can still smell it.”

Stiles can’t help chuckling at the man’s pun. He’s in agreement with Khan though, especially with the smug look she gives them. 

“The masters are greedy and think too highly of their own power and intelligence,” Dany says, glancing between them. “When the time comes to strike a bargain with me, I have no doubt he will try to cheat and humiliate me but I have something he won’t be able to resist. Dragons. I will offer him one.”

“A dragon, once grown, will worth ten times all of the Unsullied he owns,” Khan says, his tone neutral.

Dany nods. “Which is why he will accept my offer. From everything they’ve told us and everything I’ve seen...once you own the Unsullied they are yours.” She smiles. “After all,  their discipline and loyalty are absolute. Will they care who their former master was?”

Stiles grins, beyond pleased with the way Dany has thought around their problem. He leans forward to lean on the table, his grin taking a dark turn. “The dragons would never obey the masters, you’re their mother, they’d burn the city down to get to you.”

Khan’s chuckle is low and his eyes have a hint of that maniacal reputation. It sends an odd thrill through Stiles. “Seems like you have it all figured out, and I highly approve, but why come to us? You need no one's permission.”

She hesitates, looking like an unsure teenager once again. “I wanted to be sure my idea seemed as good to you as it did in my head. Jorah would only treat me as a child, try to make me do things his way instead.” She looks at each of them, holding their gazes for a moment. “I know you are both keeping who you truly are from me, but I still trust you and I somehow know you will not lead me astray and there is one problem I have yet to solve. After hearing what Jeoffrey is like, I feel that I must hurry to Westeros, but how will I do that with only one ship?”

Stiles scratches his scruff while thinking, he’s not sure exactly how many ships it would take to begin with. He recalls something he read a long time ago. “In the 1500’s  the Spanish armada had about 130 ships for 8,000 crewmen and around 18,000 soldiers…” He drifts off realizing he’d been speaking out loud, he coughs to clear his throat. He looks out of the small round window in their cabin, there’s roughly a third of that anchored in Astapor’s bay right now. “I’d say we’d need roughly every ship owned by masters…”

“Well,” Khan purrs. “Dead men need no ships.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! A big thank you to everyone who kudo’d, subscribed and commented. 
> 
> As always, we welcome all questions and comments. We love to hear what our readers think. Enjoy!


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